What Would Erik Do?
by Crimson Hint
Summary: Pitting Erik against anything that comes to mind. Read to see who wins!
1. Erik vs The Mary Sue

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**What Would Erik Do?**

**Erik vs. The Mary Sue**

Sitting in his parlor one day sipping tea and examining the latest medical book, Erik heard the bell go off signaling that there was an intruder by the lake.

Putting his book aside, he got up and walked to the door leading outside then stuck his head out into the darkness, fully expecting to see Nadir standing there cheerful and peppy as usual.

Instead all he encountered was darkness.

Sensing something was amiss; he quickly and silently closed the door and hurried back through the house, heading for his bedroom to gather his Phantom paraphernalia.

Just as he passed the parlor he heard a giggle coming from inside.

Alarmed, he silently pressed an eye to the keyhole.

What he saw inside brought out such a sense of foreboding that he scuttled back on all fours until he was pressed up against the wall on the opposite side of the hall.

It was blond.

And _poofy_.

Suddenly a song came wafting through the door and out into the hallway.

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik **

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik**

**Erik, Erik, Erik**

**Errik! Errik!**

He's oh so squishy and squooshy and wonderful!

I just want to hug him until he dies!

I want to loovle and cudle him and kiss him,

And tie him to my headboard and BEEP BEEP

BEEP BEEP BEEP $$$ BEEEEP!

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik**

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Erik, Erik, Erik**

**Errik! Errik!**

He's my prince of darkness,

He's my man!

He makes me want to do a naked can can!

I can sing,

I can dance,

But does he wear underpants?

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Erik, Erik, Erik **

**Errik! Errik!**

I have a useful talent and it is thus,

I can light Christine's hair on fire

And throw her off the roof!

As for the fop, I can BLEEEEEEP

BLEEP BLEEP and BLEEP him

Until he sings like a trained parakeet!

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Errik! Errik!**

_Oh merciful God! If there ever was an opportune time to strike me down, it is now._

I love all things black as night!

And I plan on filching all the Erik souvenirs I can find!

Just think, a mask for every day of the week!

And swishy velvety cape to do my haunting with!

And an Erik to come home to after my foul deeds are done

And bake cookies with and experiment with whipped cream with

Oooo! And brownie mix too!

And cherries!

And olives!

And wine bottles! Heh, Heh!

_When will it stop?_

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Errik! Errik!**

And, oh! Our children will be glorious little angels!

Who will tromp around the lair,

And throw pasta into their daddy's hair!

We'll build them little coffins and little organs too

And they'll grow up to be angsty genius musicians!

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Erik, Erik, Erik,**

**Errik! Errik!**

After that last stanza, the Phantom had had enough.

He was standing behind the petite horror, lasso at the ready.

Slowly, he lowered it down as it continued to sing.

I sense him!

He is near!

That particular smell of death is floating through the air!

I will … **gack!**

The lasso had dropped.

Quickly he disposed of the offending carcass, not even willing to dump it into the lake for fear of contamination.

Greatly disturbed, he walked back into the house, making sure to lock it securely behind him.

The one thing that kept bothering him over the next few days was the terrifying thought of –

_How did she get in?_

WINNER: Erik

LOSER: The Unfortunate Mary Sue


	2. Erik vs The Paperclip

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**What Would Erik Do?**

**Erik vs. the paperclip**

Erik was striding angrily along a passageway, having just come from another unsuccessful session of haunting the managers.

He didn't know what it was – maybe the older they got the more jaded they became? Or was it that they just that they somehow found the balls enough to try to defy him?

He snorted and shook his head – no use thinking such thoughts, they only got him angry.

He turned a corner and suddenly heard something metallic ricochet off his shoe and hit the wall.

He stopped and looked down, trying to see what was the cause of the noise.

His super sensitive eyes picked out a small, curiously twisted object on the ground in front of him.

He picked it up and examined it.

How did it get down there?

What did it do?

How did one use it?

What was it's purpose?

Pondering such thoughts, he took the newly found object to his lair.

_Now what should I do?_

He stared at the piece of metal.

_Maybe it is used to poke someone's eyes out?_

He found that thought extremely amusing.

_Or as a hairclip?_

He recalled the small pins the ballet rats used.

_Or maybe to pull one's fingernails out?_

_Or as a pin?_

_It looks quite sharp._

_Perhaps I could pick a lock with it._

_No. It has to have some greater meaning._

He took it in the kitchen and began experimenting.

First, he dropped it in a pot of boiling water and watched to see what would happen. When no result came from that he put a spoonful of jam on it and hung it with a clothespin on a line strung across the kitchen.

It just dripped.

Frustrated now, he whipped the paperclip away from the clothespin and tried to throw it across the room.

Tried – but failed, seeing as how the sticky contraption stuck to his fingers tenaciously.

"Gah!"

The paperclip flew off his hand and stuck with a _thwump _on the ceiling.

Not aware of the new location of the curious object, he looked around the room to see where it went. It had disappeared! It was not on any of the walls or on the floor or anywhere else in the kitchen for that matter. Amazing!

Then he felt something land on his head.

A frenzied ball of horror growing in his stomach, he almost prayed that it wasn't what he thought it was.

His hand found a sticky little metal object embedded in his hair.

He gave a shout a fury and tugged at it, only to find that it was cemented in his raven locks.

Panicking, he ran to the bathroom and turned on the faucet in the sink, sticking his whole head under the running water and completely forgetting about his mask.

Within seconds his whole face was swamped and it was getting hard for him to breathe.

He tore the black velvet contraption off, throwing it carelessly on the floor by the door and then he turned his attention back to the paperclip.

He pushed.

He pulled.

He scrubbed.

He clawed.

And the only thing he succeeded in doing was making it worse.

He stared at his twisted reflection in the cabinet mirror above the sink miserably.

_It will have to be cut off._

He opened the cabinet and pulled out a razor then hurriedly slashed off a hank of hair.

It fell into his palm silkily and a little stickily.

Not even bothering to look at it he headed for the door of the bathroom, resolving to take extreme caution when testing the thing in the future.

But just as he stepped out into the hall his foot slipped on his discarded mask and he went crashing to the floor.

He lay there for a moment, stunned, just looking at the chunk of hair and the parasitic little hunk of metal that he had grasped in his shaking fist.

_Dear God! It has to be some sort of tribal bad luck talisman!_

Suddenly filled with adrenaline, he jumped up off the floor in karate style and ran for the door to the lake.

MUST 

_GET_

_RID_

_OF_

He skidded to a stop right before he hit the water and grabbed the nearest stone.

Weighted down, he measured the bundle of hair, paperclip, and rock in his hand, hefted it back, and then threw it as far as it would go.

It hit the water with a little splash, leaving only a few air bubbles in its wake before completely disappearing.

Exhausted, Erik slouched back into the lair.

WINNER: The Paperclip

LOSER: Erik


	3. Erik vs The Imaginary Crouton

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Just So You Know:**

I have in here a reference to Shakespeare's _Macbeth_. It the play the main character, Macbeth, sees a floating dagger dripping with blood and it guides him to kill Duncan, the king.

**Erik vs. The Imaginary Crouton**

The Phantom was sitting at the organ playing a doleful little tune.

The rat-catcher had suddenly and mysteriously disappeared and now, as the only permanent inhabitant of the cellars, his humble abode became the only food source for the rats within at least a five to ten mile radius. They had been scurrying around the fifth cellar in droves, nearly bowling over Erik as he stepped out his front door earlier that morning.

Confused as to why there were little balls of fur scurrying around anywhere he tried to put his feet and disgusted at their sheer numbers, he had whipped out his lasso, an old bag, and a mallet and threw himself into the writhing mass of rats.

The melee that had ensued rivaled the Helms Deep battle scene from Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.

The victor rose, dripping, from the lake and went inside his house to finish off the remaining rats.

Annoyances eradicated, he slunk to the organ and plopped himself down onto the bench with a wet little squelching sound.

There he had remained until, tiredly, he looked up from composing and happened to find a crouton floating a few inches away from his mask.

Image not registering for a few moments, he calmly bent his head down and went back to composing.

Then, as if he was just stuck in the rear end with a red-hot fire poker, he jumped up, the bench clattering to the ground behind him.

The crouton was floating there still, looking as innocent and crunchy as the day it came out of the factory.

_It…it poked me!_

He scurried back and dove behind his coffin.

After a few minutes of tense silence he poked his head over the edge and looked toward the organ.

It was gone.

_I must have been imagining it._

Relieved, he sunk back down and leaned heavily against the coffin's side.

As he turned his head, though, he found the little bugger floating right above his shoulder. Cursing, he leaped over the coffin and raced to the other side of the room.

The crouton slowly bobbled after him.

But before it reached him it halted, hovering at eye level above Erik's beloved, match-with-anything, Persian rug.

He eyed it suspiciously.

It jerked, as if someone had slapped it, and then lowly little droplets of blood appeared on its surface that, to the horror of the Phantom, dribbled off of it and onto his rug.

At the sight of a crouton dripping blood on his precious Persian carpet and facing the possibility of having just lost his grip on reality, Erik started to hyperventilate.

Frantically, he tore off his mask and threw it at the blood-drenched cube of bread.

It frisbeed past it, landing with a _thwump_ on top of a book that was laying carelessly on the floor. The Phantom stared at it for a second, puzzled as to how it got there, and then recognition dawned – last night he had been reading Macbeth!

He looked back to the crouton.

It was now spasming and sinking slowly to the floor.

Cautiously he approached it.

The crouton, sensing that he was near, feebly tried to float/wobble over to him, but it only got a few feet before dropping to the ground.

Erik slowly put his finger out and pushed at it.

It went straight through.

He snatched his hand back and crouched, watching, as the crouton proceeded to go into its death throes.

It rolled back and forth across the carpet, bouncing a little and spewing more blood.

It twirled around on one of its corners like a top.

It jerked back and forth.

And finally, it collapsed dramatically, giving a few twitches and shakes for good measure.

He snorted.

_That was some of the worst acting I have ever seen in my life._

_But, technically, if it is an allusion it is coming from inside of my head and that would mean that I was doing the acting._

_Or was I?_

A small popping sound that was emitted by the dead crouton stopped his musings short.

As he watched, it disappeared into thin air.

_Well that's a relief._

_But…wait…_

_It left its blood! It left…**ON MY CARPET!**_

He jumped up and shouted,

"I want that blood _gone_, do you hear me? If you could make the damn crouton disappear then make this mess vanish also!"

For added affect, he slapped his face. Hard.

Obviously, his brain must have got the picture because the blood disappeared with the same popping sound.

Still hopping mad, he plopped down into a nearby chair and glared at the spot where the crouton and blood had vanished and then at the book laying half opened across the room.

He stayed there until he was sure that the little pest-illusion was gone for good and then he stalked off, glancing once over his shoulder to make sure that no croutons were following.

WINNER: The Crouton

LOSER: Erik


	4. BONUS: Erik vs The Pigeon

I'm sorry, but these next two chapters were edited very quickly since I probably won't be able to update until the weekend and I wanted to get at least another chapter put up. If you find anything wrong, again, I'm sorry, but point them out to me and I'll fix them if I can find the time.

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers! You guys encourage me to continue this story!

Also, I mention something about a Phangirls' Rating System. I was wondering – is there one in existence? If not should I/we make one?

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**BONUS: Erik vs. The pigeon**

Hello dear readers and welcome to our first edition of BONUS: What Would Erik Do?

I am currently standing on the _rooftop_ of the Opera Populaire observing our two bloodthirsty, vicious opponents!

In one corner we have, straight from New York City, _The Pigeon_!

And in the other, the object of adoration for Phangirls worldwide, _Erik, The Phantom of the Opera!_

WHO WILL WIN THIS MATCH?

WHO WILL BE THE ULTIMATE VICTOR OF THIS OPERA HOUSE?

_Watch to find out!_

DING!>

And there's the bell!

These two are off and running, folks!

The pigeon had taken flight and is now circling the ring, looking for an opportunity to get at its opponent.

Erik, down on the mat, is staring up at it with a look of absolutely evil and malicious intent!

Whoa! That is one mean look!

Let's see…according to the _Phangirls' Rating System_ that we have here that gaze registers at about an eight out of ten on the Evil Glare scale!

Wait, what is he doing now!

He's…he's pulling out his lasso!

It looks like The Pigeon has noticed this and it has risen higher.

The Phantom is still frozen on the mat and…

THE PIGEON HAS MADE ITS MOVE!

Ingenious!

It's dive-bombed him too fast for Erik to use his lasso!

It's fluttering Erik's head trying to peck his eyes out!

But wait! The Phantom has pulled something out of his pocket…

He's throwing it…

And, oh! It was a smokescreen!

I can't see very well but I think…yes! Erik is gone from the ring!

The pigeon is fluttering around helplessly on the mat.

It looks like some of the chemicals from the smoke has affected it!

Oh…my…God! I can't believe it! Its feathers have turned green!

And folks, I think it's recovering!

Yes! It's attempting to flutter around the ring!

It's gaining altitude and…

What's that black shape hurdling towards the ring?

IT'S ERIK!

And it looks as though he has gone and gotten something.

It's a bag…

I can't see what…

Wait! It's…it's BIRDSEED!

AND A TENNIS RACKET!

It looks like the Phantom has decided to play dirty for this one, folks!

He's entered the ring and is approaching The Pigeon, who has landed on one of the ropes.

It's eyeing him cautiously…

Erik is dropping the birdseed…

Is it going to take the bait!

Yes!

It's flying straight for it!

Erik is at the ready with the racket…

Aaaaaanndd!

He's made connection!

_That's definitely going to leave a mark!_

The pigeon has been knocked across the roof and it's falling to the ground!

Will it recover in time…!

No!

It has hit the ground!

THAT IS **IT **FOLKS!

Erik, the Phantom of the Opera is still the champion of the Opera Populaire!

Wow! That was awesome!

Well, this fight is definitely over!

Thanks for watching and please come and read again!

Until next time…

Buh bye!

WINNER: Erik

LOSER: The Pigeon


	5. Erik vs The Phangirl

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Erik vs. The Phangirl**

Erik was walking across the stage one night, lost in his own thoughts, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a squealing, cloak-adorned mass of flesh barreled into his side. He was knocked over and the momentum from his fall almost rolled him into the orchestra pit.

Stopping right before the edge, he tried to jerk himself up so he could put some distance between him and his attacker. He found, though, that his whole body was rendered immovable by an iron grip around his waist and strategically placed acupuncture needles.

He rolled his eyes around wildly, trying to catch a glimpse of the thing that was snow snuggling into his shirt and exclaiming in a squealing fervor,

"Umm, velvety!"

"I'm in heaven!"

"Ahh! He smells sooooo good!"

And then,

"I wonder what would happen if I…"

It stuck a hand into his shirt and started feeling around.

Erik let out a muffled yelp and then tried to get out a muffled scream of outrage as he felt the hand go lower.

"Murf, murf, mumph, humph!"

"What was that, my darling?"

Its free hand snaked up and plucked a needle out of his neck.

"Get off of me THIS INSTANT or so help me, God, I will string you up by your neck from one of the statues on the roof!"

He suddenly felt it get up and walk around to his feet.

He tried to follow it with his eyes.

"Go!"

At this it paused and then a shout went up,

"MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Following shortly after, a screech filled the auditorium,

"Dive!"

It sailed through the air and landed heavily on his chest, straddling his waist with its legs.

"Oooh! Shiny buttons!"

"What are you?"

"Damn it…do not remove that…"

Erik gasped and tried his hardest to struggle, but to no avail - the shadowy figure had learned its acupuncture techniques well.

"YOU LITTLE MINX! YOU SHALL BURN IN HELL FOR THIS!"

A ripping sound was heard.

"No! Don't you da…"

The needle was placed back.

_Dear reader, it is I, Miss Hint. As much as I would like to say that Erik will escape from this situation and run free around his opera house, as all Eriks should, unfortunately, I cannot. The Phangirl has the great advantages of two books, one musical, various movies, karate, fencing, and singing lessons, fanfiction, a vast knowledge of acupuncture techniques, and an iron will that rivals Erik's own. I find that it is my duty to inform you that she was quite successful in molesting the Phantom, dragging him back to the lair, and holding him captive for over four months. What this did to him, I'm not quite sure, but I can assure you that it probably wasn't pretty. Anyhow, Erik has just escaped (I can't tell you exactly how, due to its graphic nature, but I can say that it was pulled off with two spoons and a wad of paper.) and he is running for his life._

Erik stumbled through the tunnels like a rat that has just been sniffed out by a terrier.

He stopped for a second, trying to figure out the best way to go, but then he heard, from far off in the distance, the sound of evil itself.

"Errrrikins? Where are Yoooou?"

He shuddered and scampered off further into the darkness.

Down and up, back and forth, sideways and in between he went, but the voice followed him.

He was running out of places to hide.

Soon he would either have to leave his precious opera house forever or destroy the harbinger of pain and evil.

_We cannot destroy the Mistress. No we cannot._

_But Erik wants to be free._

_The Mistress is preciousssss. Her touch is preciousssss. We must not leave her._

_But…_

_NO! Go back now!_

_Erik won't go back, no he won't! The Mistress plays trickesies on Erik. She hurts him._

_Pah! After all that she has done! YOU ARE A TRAITOR!_

_No! No, no, no, no, no! Erik will not listen to this! Lalalalalalala…_

_TRAITOR!_

_Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala…_

_TRAITORRRRRRR!_

_Lalalalalala…Erik can't hear you…lalalalalalalala…_

_AAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHH!_

_Lalala…_

_FINE! We's will leave you alone! Hrumph! Good riddance!_

_Lalalalala…?_

Erik looked around himself.

He was standing in a tunnel that even _he _couldn't remember.

It was completely black.

Musty, stale air wafted over him, the slight breeze coming from farther down the passage way.

The walls were unfinished and there were no signs that any trespassers had gone by recently.

He looked behind him.

It was a dead end.

The only things behind him were moldy and dripping slabs of stone and a portal into another dimension.

He turned back around and walked down the tunnel a few steps before he stopped.

_Wait a minute._

_Was that a portal into another dimension?_

He hurried back.

_Yes it is!_

He went up to it and examined it closely.

It was black and shimmery.

There was a tag fluttering around on one side.

He snatched it up and read,

_To my dear Opera Ghost,_

_I really don't feel like tormenting you any further. The Gollum episode above was just a little too frightening for me, even though I wrote it. I see that the Phan has not been treating you well. I think she- _She! You call that _thing _a _SHE! -has abused her rights of befriending an Erik. I am afraid that if she catches you she will do irreparable damage to your essential Phantom character. Therefore, I deem it necessary to remove her, so as to not cause any more harm._

_You will find that all you have to do, when she comes, is push her in and the portal will seal itself. DO NOT GET STUCK IN THE BACKLASH! It will pull you in and you will be beyond my influence!_

_Good Luck,_

_Miss C. Hint_

He reread the letter and then stuffed it into his coat pocket.

He could hear it now – it was close.

Quickly, he looked for a hiding place and found that the best and only spot was near the door, right by where it would come in.

He settled himself down and waited.

It didn't take long for the Phan to come bounding through the threshold, singing Erik songs and twirling its hand embroidered (by Erik) cape.

Erik, wasting no time, shoved it as hard as he could towards the portal.

He watched as it stumbled blindly toward the sparkling wall of doom (for a Phan, at least) and then tripped and fell right through it.

As soon as it was gone he ran as far down the tunnel as he could as fast as his legs could possibly carry him.

There was a powerful suctioning noise that started as soon as the Phan was through.

During that time the Phantom was swept off of his feet and pulled backwards towards the end of the tunnel.

Desperately, he clung to the stone floor, clawing at it in terror.

Then, suddenly, the suction cut off.

He flopped to the floor and lay there stunned.

It was gone!

**It was gone!**

The opera house was his to torment again!

He started to giggle.

The giggle was replaced by a laugh.

The laugh was replaced by insane chuckling.

The insane chucking was replaced by a sobbing/happy/sad/joyous/tormented/disturbed/high pitched/crow-like screech,

AAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Then a chant was taken up,

I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE!

I'M FREE!

HA HA! I'M FREE!

I'M FREE!

I'M FREE!

I'M FREE!

He got up and ran down the passageway, still chanting at the top of his lungs.

The Phantom was free to roam around his opera house once again.

_Or at least until next time I send a Phangirl in._

_I heard she has a cousin – a tame girl, shy, adorably cute, blond and fluffy – but she disappeared a few months ago._

_Hmm – I wonder…_

_Ha! Ha!_

_It just has to be coincidence!_

WINNER: The Authoress

LOSER: The Phangirl

AND ERIK: He escaped without too much mental damage. I guess you could say that he won, too.


	6. Erik vs Gerry

Hopefully you readers will like this Erik vs. Gerry chapter.

If not, then I am sorry.

Also, there might be some spelling and grammar mistakes in this due to the hurry in updating.

If you find them or something doesn't sound right will you please point it out?

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Erik vs. Gerry**

Lying comfortably in his coffin, the Phantom was drifting off to sleep.

Today had been a good day for him – he had managed to rig a trap door and Carlotta had fallen right into it seconds after she had walked in.

Instead of going straight through, her voluminous skirt caught on the rough wood edges of the stage and she became wedged, half in and half out, screaming her head off.

It took five stagehands to pull her out, kicking like a wild woman and hissing like a snake.

This scene was so hilarious that he went and rigged another little gift from O.G.

Andre, unassumingly walking along and eyeing the ballet rats' "tushies", received the surprise of his life when he was suddenly catapulted across the stage, landing face first on Madam Giry.

The ballet mistress gave a shout and her rats came a-scurrying to get a good view of their new topic of gossip.

The two victims hurriedly disentangled themselves, red faced and huffing, and then ran off, embarrassed, to their respective tasks.

The Phantom, observing from box five, found the outcome of his prank so funny that he actually let out a_ **laugh**._

His first real one in probably_ a decade._

Enlivened, he went around the opera house creating chaos merrily for the rest of the day.

Now he was back in the lair and snug as a bug in a rug lying in his coffin wrapped, cocoon-like, in various velvets to ward off the chill of the fifth cellar.

_Ahh, so peaceful._

_I think I shall rig some of the lamps tomorrow._

_Perhaps Carlotta's dress will catch on fire._

_That would be marvelous._

_Yes that would be so…_

_That would…_

_So…_

He awoke to the sound of someone singing in the next room.

Cautiously, he stuck his head up and propped it against the coffin's side, glaring out into the darkened room.

All that he found were his organ and scattered pieces of furniture.

He hesitated a moment, thinking over what he should do, and then rolled himself out of the coffin, landing silently.

He quickly made for the door and slipped out, slinking from wall to wall like a shadow.

Reaching the door to the parlor, he opened it quietly and looked in.

Sitting on one of the sofa, back to him, was a man dressed in black, with his hair slicked back, drinking a cup of tea.

In between sips, he was loudly belting out a Scottish tune that the Phantom had never heard before and hoped never to hear again in his lifetime.

AUCH NEIGH LASS BE

LAUDLE DAH DAH

THE BAIRN'S IN HEIL AND

THE CHICKEN'S FLEW THE COOP

LAUDLE DAH DAH DE DO

Forgetting himself in the face of such a torturous scene, Erik shouted,

"Dear God! Messieur, I beg you to stop for the sake of my sanity!"

The singing ended abruptly and the figure turned around.

As each Phantom caught sight of the other he froze, staring in horror at his shadowy counterpart.

Seconds ticked by until Gerry, from the shock, dropped his teacup and it shattered noisily on the floor.

Erik, jolted out of his position by the door, swept into the room and stood before the "imposter."

"Messieur," he hissed, "do you wish to make fun of my position by wearing that mask?"

Gerry, who was fuming at the broken teacup, ignored the irate Phantom.

"Did you hear me, you little…"

Gerry did tune in on the end of this spat out exclamation and his head snapped up in indignation.

"How rude! I my be some things, but I am certainly not _little._"

Erik gaped at him for a moment, proceeded to turn white, beet red, and then stuttered,

"That is not exactly what I…"

He was interrupted by Gerry, who had risen and was pointing at his face.

"What is wrong with your face?"

The Phantom, offended, snapped back,

"What is wrong with yours?"

"But…no mask…"

"It is in my bedroom."

Erik leaned in to stare at the other's countenance, trying to see what was behind the mask and also intrigued by its design.

Needless to say, this caused Gerry much distress.

"Hmm, only half a mask."

He reached out before Gerry could react and poked it.

"Well constructed."

"I beg your pardon!"

His hand was slapped away by the indignant Phantom.

"If you touch my mask again," Gerry paused dramatically and shot Erik an icy glare, "I will wring your neck."

"You…will…wring…_my_ neck?"

Erik gave such a purely evil smile that Gerry backed up a few steps.

"I have no idea how you managed to get in, I have no idea how anyone, for that matter, manages to get in!"

He followed the fast retreating Gerry.

"But this is my house and I want you to GET OUT!"

"Bu…"

"Ant!"

"How…?"

"Zrt!"

"Wait a…"

"Nrg!"

"Who…"

"AHEM…the Phantom."

"But I am the Phantom!"

"No you are not."

"Yes I am!"

"NO, you are NOT!"

"YES I AM!"

"Prove it!"

Erik had Gerry cornered between a sofa and the wall.

Nervously, Gerry began to state his qualifications:

"I rule the opera house with threatening notes,"

"I create the music of the night,"

Erik snorted.

"And Christine Daae is the love of my life!"

"Christine Daae!" the Phantom exclaimed,

"You mean that cowardly chorus girl who resembles my mother?"

Gerry was overcome by a look of absolute adoration.

"That is the one."

"I am sorry but I am not _that_ sadistic."

"But she has the loveliest eyes."

His counterpart raised an eyebrow.

"And the cutest little nose."

"And she sings like an angel."

Erik started to look interested.

"Perfect pitch, bell-like clarity,"

He leaned attentively towards Gerry.

"and the fiery spirit perfect for Amnita."

"_Reall_y…?"

"Wait, how do you know about Don Juan Triumphant?"

Gerry stared at him in haughty defiance and pride,

"I composed it."

Immediately upon hearing this, the lasso was whipped out.

Gerry started at the sight of the narrow loop of catgut.

"Dear God! What did I do?"

He crawled over the couch and Erik followed, rounding a coffee table and heading him off.

"Put that thing away."

"MUST…KILL…IMPOSTER!"

Erik started twirling the catgut around as if he was going to wrangle Gerry in like a prized steer.

Recognizing the danger, Gerry raised a hand to the level of his eyes and then looked for his lasso with the other.

It wasn't in his pocket.

It wasn't tied to his waist.

Where could it be?

"Looking for this?"

His lasso was dangling from Erik's free hand.

"Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh."

Gerry started panicking.

"Heh, heh, heh…heh, heh, heh."

He started running.

"DIE IMPOSTER!"

The lasso was flung just as he reached the door.

Erik, being the excellent marksman that he is, hit his target square on.

Gerry fell to the floor, hand plastered to neck, looking like a giant fishie that had just gotten hooked.

Once he hit the ground he laid there, still and silent.

Erik, realizing that the "imposter" was still alive because of the arm sticking out between his head and shoulder, stealthily crossed the room and grabbed a fire poker off of a hook on the wall then approached the sprawled out figure.

He reached out and gave his shoulder a nudge.

Not so much as a twitch came from the inert Phantom.

He moved closer and shuddered at the sight before his eyes.

Gerry's face was contorted into an evil grin that rivaled Erik's own.

His mask had fallen off and it was lying on the ground next to the couch.

Worst of all, the look in his eyes was the twin of the one from the down once more scene.

Shuddering, Erik jumped back, but it was too late.

Gerry had made his move.

Lunging forward he grabbed the retreating Phantom's cape and yanked back on it – hard.

Erik fell with a _thwump_ right onto his face and the fire poker clattered to the floor.

Gerry, not relinquishing his hold on the Phantom's cape, crawled up on top Erik's back, yanked the lasso off of his neck, and then placed it around his stunned victim's own.

Dropping the cape, he wrapped both of his hands around the rope and started squeezing.

Erik, coming to from the lack of air, realized what was happening and started to flail around, trying to buck Gerry off.

Gerry just squeezed harder and clamped down onto the Phantom's back like a leach.

After about two minutes of excessive oxygen deprivation, the light began to fade from the helpless Phantom's eyes.

He stopped struggling and grabbed Gerry's arm, feebly clawing at the material.

Sensing triumph was near Gerry just shook him off and held his position.

The arm flopped down and Erik's lifeless body sagged to the floor.

The remaining Phantom jumped up triumphantly and nudged the body with his foot.

"Humph, I did wring your neck you imposter."

With that he turned and took a seat at the piano in the other corner of the room.

Closing his eyes he lovingly started playing the opening to Don Juan Triumphant.

WINNER: Gerry (for now)

LOSER: Erik

OH _NO_! I HAVE KILLED OFF MY MAIN CHARACTER! **WHAT AM I TO DO!**

Please, don't panic.

This thing is not over yet!


	7. Round Two: Taking Up Arms

Thank you, all of my reviewers!

**Erik for President, **thanks for the Spongebob suggestion! I will definitely think about it!

**As for putting readers into this fic, I was thinking of doing an Erik vs. The Reviewers chapter later on.**

**I will let all of you know if I am going to do it and when in the near future.**

Oh, I have a reference to _Angel of the Opera, Sherlock Holmes Meets the Phantom of the Opera _in here. Sherlock uses dog collars to foil Erik's Punjab traps.

Stiff leather around neck equals no suffocation because lasso cannot catch windpipe.

That is a really good (and useful) book. It is like an extension of the Leroux version with a fanfiction ending. If you can get your hands on a copy I suggest you read it.

It definitely plays up Erik as the angsty man of Everyone's dreams.

And it makes Raoul look like a sissy, too.

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Round Two: ****Taking Up Arms**

Letting out a small gasp, Erik came to, staring groggily at his surroundings.

He shuddered and muttered hoarsely,

"Tunnel…white light…Carlotta in white light…ugh…"

He feebly turned his head to the side and let out a groan.

"Must have been hell."

His head lolled back to its former position and he closed his eyes because with that faint movement the room had started to spin painfully.

He laid there for what seemed like hours until, vaguely, he realized that someone was playing Don Juan Triumphant on his piano.

Badly.

The awful sound was enough motivation for the Phantom to drag himself to the nearby couch and try to stick his head underneath it.

When that plan failed he scooted himself up against its leather and wood side and strained to catch a glimpse of the offending musician.

His vision swimming in and out and his breath coming in ragged gasps from the exertion, he was able to glimpse a black clad figure perched upon the piano bench swaying nauseatingly to and fro with the music.

Unable to gather enough strength to stand he sat there quietly, trying to block out as much of the awful sounding noise as he could.

Hours went by and the "imposter", as Erik had remembered him, had not stopped playing.

He had gone fully through Erik's repertoire of songs and had moved on to other classical pieces

The Phantom was strong enough now to move if he had to and, seeing as how he had remembered that the figure at the piano had a death wish on him, decided to make for the kitchen.

Upon entering the room, he looked for any object that could aid him in his second ago (that is after the song, Masquerade) planned attack on the "imposter".

Pulling kitchen knives from their holders and eggbeaters, forks, spoons, corkscrews, and a random hack saw from the drawers and stuffing them into various pockets and also down into his pants, he crossed the kitchen and proceeded into the hallway.

The door to the parlor was ajar and the flowing melody of 'Moonlight Sonata' came floating through.

"What kind of…thing…is he?"

The Phantom stared at the sliver of light cutting across the carpet from the crack in the door.

"He cannot play any of my music whatsoever, but he can play _every single other goddamn song perfectly._"

He sneered disgustedly and headed for his bedroom.

_Thank God he did not touch my organ._

_I would have had to cut off his hands for that, besides brutally murdering him._

_And I probably would have had to take it apart and scrub it all down, to get the stink off._

He entered the room, locked the door, and headed for his closet.

Pulling out a stiff leather dog collar from a bottom shelf and various pieces of clothing, he dumped them in the coffin and started to quickly shed his clothing.

(_Too bad, my dear readers, that this is a T rated fic, or else I would have included a striptease right here _:))

(_Heh, heh, heh_. _Just kidding!)_

(_But it **is **seriously tempting.)_

He threw everything but the pants onto the floor and, noticing that the lasso was still around his neck, threw that into the coffin, too.

He then donned his new outfit and fitted the dog collar around his neck, tightening it so that if he was lassoed again he would not be strangled a second time.

Walking up to a mirror, he eyed his reflection, and deemed the image perfect for his planned revenge.

The only things that he needed were his tools and a mask and he would be practically invisible.

He went back to the coffin and emptied the items in his pants into his pockets and a small drawstring bag that he tied to his lasso.

He cinched the lasso around his waist and headed for a chest next to the mirror.

Flipping open the lid, he grabbed smokescreen pellets, snapdragons, a reed, chloroform, a cloth, and a shiny, black leather whip.

Stuffing these items into other various pockets he rose and swiftly crossed the room, unlocked the door, and slipped quietly and determinedly out into the hall.

The music had stopped.

He poked his head into the parlor and found that the "imposter" had fallen asleep at the piano, head resting on the keys and arms hanging down at his sides.

The Phantom approached and took out the chloroform and the cloth.

Hesitating for only a second as the aura of cuteness from Gerry's sleeping form washed over him, he gently placed the cloth over his mouth and nose and held it there until he felt the sleeper relax even more.

He then hefted the knocked out and slightly snoring Gerry over his shoulder and toted him out of the parlor and then out of his house.

WINNER: Wait and see

LOSER: Undecided (Although is does look bad for Gerry, doesn't it?)

Can anyone guess what Erik's outfit is?


	8. Round Three: Chains and Alter Egos

**Hi! I just thought I should post this now.**

**It's short, though.**

**I promise there will be more really funny material soon.**

Thanks to all of my reviewers!

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Round Three: Chains and Alter Egos**

When Gerry awoke he was surrounded by darkness.

Alarmed, he sat up abruptly and almost got knocked over when the floor shifted unsteadily underneath him.

Flinging his arms out, he encountered wooden sides of something to his left and right and he grabbed hold of them for dear life.

He could hear water lapping against something.

Somehow, he found that observation extremely unnerving.

As the swaying stopped he tried to look around to see where he was, but even with his superior night vision, he couldn't.

Suddenly, a voice surrounded him, booming and echoing across the room.

"I see that the little "_imposter_" has awakened."

Gerry, instantly recognizing the voice, tried to stand up.

"I would be careful, if I were you, messieur." the voice suggested companionably.

"_You might go over the side too soon, and then where would we be?"_

The voice laughed manically.

"Notice the shackles and weights wrapped around your legs?"

Gerry bent down and frantically patted at his ankles.

Cuffed and wrapped tightly around his legs were a set of chains with large metal weights attached to them.

"I see you have found them."

The voice sighed dramatically.

"A little something left over from the soldiers that once inhabited these cellars."

"Unfortunately, you can probably get those off almost as fast as I can,"

The voice moved over to the left.

"so those are most likely useless,"

Gerry, sensing that the voice was up to no good, hunkered down on the rough wood flooring.

The voice continued,

"I have left your lock picking equipment in your pocket, just to be fair."

Gerry could hear something moving through the water off to his left.

"This is probably too late to be saying this, but I hope you'll agree with me that I must test this theory of your lock picking skills rivaling my own."

"If you do not, well…"

Before Gerry could react he was dumped into the water, sinking underneath immediately due to the chains.

The voice exclaimed,

"then I have just attempted to kill a man!"

Gerry was struggling valiantly and within twenty seconds he had freed himself from the chains.

Bursting out of the water, he flailed around until he came across what he believed to be a boat.

The voice was behind him, quietly hissing to itself,

"_He broke my record! That…little…_" 

"_He is going to PAY for offending our preciousssssss ego."_

"_Yes he issss."_

Gerry froze, halfway into the boat, as he heard the insane muttering.

"_We seeessss that you_ have gotten back to the boat."

Halfway through that last hiss the voice had switched back to normal.

"A shame, really, I had hoped that you would drown."

"But I think both you and I will enjoy this much, _much_ more."

With that the voice disappeared and Gerry was left in darkness.

He sat there for what seemed like hours, squinting out into the distance, trying to find even a hint of where the voice was coming from.

Then, with a hiss, a match flared to life a little ways in front of him.

The match was brought to a lamp, which flared to life and illuminated its holder.

There, standing in a black painted gondola in navy blue pants tucked into black Hessian boots, a ruffled cream shirt with a black vest covering it, a black velvet cape with blue lining tossed carelessly over one shoulder, and a wide brimmed hat with raven feather trim tilted rakishly to the side covering his eyes and half of a black velvet mask with navy swirls dancing across its surface was Erik.

He had the hand not holding onto the lamp placed on his hip and he was smirking sexily.

Mist from the lake was drifting across his form and spreading around the boat.

Gerry whimpered and said shakily,

"I could have sworn that I killed you."

Erik chuckled and replied,

"But you _did_. I am…"

He tilted his hat up, giving Gerry a full view of his glowing golden eyes.

"…only a ghost."

With that the candle was blown out.

WINNER: Heh, heh, heh.

LOSER: Who do you think?


	9. Round Four: Forks Can Be Deadly

**WOW…**

**Erik is _extremely_ scary in this chapter.**

**POOR GERRY!**

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Round Four: Forks Can Be Deadly**

Gerry shivered, thinking of the frightening specter that was at that moment floating somewhere around him in a gondola.

Every once in a while a laugh would break through the silence and he would jump up and curse out into the darkness.

Erik watched from his place on shore, letting out a laugh from time to time to keep the "imposter" on edge.

He had tied the boat up and was now ready to have some fun.

Taking the snapdragons out of his pocket, he walked out into the water. When it reached his waist he stopped, checked Gerry's position, and then took aim.

All of a sudden, Gerry felt something explode against his head.

Jumping up in surprise, he lost his balance and went tumbling into the water.

Soaking wet, he popped back up, only to find that the boat that he was on a second ago was gone.

Panicking, he swam in a random direction, but was stopped when he smacked his face into a slimy, wet, stone pillar.

Blood spurting from his nose, he tried to move around it when, suddenly, a large explosion shook the column from ceiling to floor. Chunks of stone and plaster fell with sickening thuds onto his head and a wad of slime plopped into his open mouth. He sunk further down into the water as an evil laugh reverberated around the room.

_Well, I used those up._

Erik tossed the empty pouch of snapdragons on the ground. He then pulled out a corkscrew, the hacksaw, and the reed.

Sticking the reed in his mouth, tossing his hat to the side, and unclasping his cloak, he waded into the water and then dove under.

Gerry was trying his hardest to stay afloat. Bobbing up and down, he waded through the water, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He was so preoccupied he did not see the reed glide past.

Beneath him, Erik smiled contentedly and sank the corkscrew into Gerry's right foot.

Gerry froze and then let out a, well, um,

he let out a _squeak._

"_eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…"_

He sank beneath the water, stunned.

Erik was ready and waiting with the hacksaw.

In under ten seconds Gerry's glorious mane of midnight black with chestnut highlights hair was completely taken off and his clothes and various body parts were slashed viciously.

Realizing what had just happened but refusing to believe, the mauled Phantom just floated there, slowly sinking to the bottom.

Sinking, that is, until Erik, deeming Gerry still torture-worthy, pulled him up and dragged him back to the boat.

He left him there, manned his own gondola, and started circling the shivering and weeping mass of flesh huddled in the bottom of the small craft.

"Have you had enough," he addressed it,

"_Do you want to die_?"

Gerry let out an intelligible mutter.

"Eh?"

Another mutter, this time louder.

"Will you _please _speak up, or shall I cut out your tongue?"

At this, Gerry, hissed,

"You…will…not…get…the…best…of…me…you…imposter."

Erik snickered.

"Just what I wanted to hear."

He pulled out a cheese grater and jumped lithely to the other gondola.

Roughly, he yanked back the other Phantom's head and shaved off both eyebrows.

Gerry screamed and tried to tackle Erik, but Erik just pinned him down and pulled out a few forks.

"Heh, heh, heh…"

"I find acupuncture to be a _very_ useful thing."

He raised the forks.

"Maybe this will help with some of the aches and pains."

He plunged them into Gerry's back and shoulders, grinding them in for added "pleasure".

The poor Phantom just twitched and peed his pants.

Erik, sensing that it was time to end it, jumped back into his gondola and pulled out the rest of the kitchen appliances and his whip.

Throwing the metal objects like darts, he stuck Gerry in the rump, the legs, and the neck.

He then uncurled the whip and snapped it menacingly in the air.

"I know full well that what I did to you hurt a lot more than what you did to me."

He gazed out into the darkness.

"But, this opera house is not big enough for the both of us, so I have to take your life."

"And you to attempted to kill me. That, even if you were not posing as the Opera Ghost, would call for an immediate and painful death."

He snapped the whip again.

"I _am_ sorry."

When he turned back, much to his horror, Gerry was gone from the floor of the Gondola.

A few seconds later he heard something get out of the water at the entrance to the tunnels and scamper off.

Erik tried to think of what to do, but all that came to mind was the image of Gerry, huddled in the bottom of the boat.

He shook his head and pulled Gerry's pilfered mask out of his pocket.

_I am going to have to set more traps and block all the doors in my house._

_I wonder if he will survive down here._

He headed towards the shore.

_After all that I put him through, most likely not._

He jumped out of his gondola, gathered his discarded things, and then headed for the door to the lair.

_I think I will just let him die in peace._

With that he entered his house and slammed the door.

WINNER: Erik

LOSER: Gerry

It is finished! 

**Ahahahahahahaha!**

**I am pleased to tell you that we will now go back to the regular Erik vs. chapters.**

**Finally!**


	10. Erik vs The Furby

**ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT JUST SHOWED CLIPS FROM PIRATES OF THE CARRIBBEAN TWO! AND THEY ARE GOING TO DO A SPECIAL TEASER PREVIEW ON WEDNESDAY! YAY!**

Thanks to all of my reviewers!

**WanderingTeen: **This one is you! Enjoy!

For anyone who feels bad for Gerry (I know I do!)(But, hey, he messed with my Erik. You just do not do that.) he **MIGHT **be making an appearance in a later chapter or two. Remember, I never did say if he died or not. Erik just assumed…heh, heh, heh.

Now that I think about it, Gerry could survive on rats.

And he had at least one fork still stuck in his back that he could use.

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Erik vs. The Furby**

Erik walked into the kitchen one day and found a Furby sitting on the counter.

Curious as to what it was and how it got there, he approached it and reached out a hand to pick it up.

As his fingers got in range, the most disturbing, frightening, downright scary thing happened.

The Furby came to life with a mechanical cackle and chomped down on the Phantom's nearest digit as hard as it could with its plastic beak.

Surprised, Erik quickly pulled back his injured hand and looked on in terror as the little toy fuzz ball started blinking its eyes rapidly and spinning around in circles.

Erik backed up a few steps, unsure of what was happening.

Suddenly it stopped and stared up at the Phantom with its shiny plastic eyeballs.

Unnerved, he reached behind his back andgrabbed a spatula from one of the drawers.

As he lifted it out, though, it became wedged in between some other appliances and he quickly glanced down to see what was the matter.

When he looked up the Furby was gone.

Hurriedly, he yanked out the spatula and brandished it in front of himself.

Circling slowly in place, he searched the whole kitchen, but the Furby was nowhere in sight.

Then he felt something nudge his foot.

Looking down he almost jumped on top of the nearest countertop when he found that the little freak was staring innocently up at him from the floor.

Confused, irritated, and slightly disturbed, the Phantom kicked it away.

_Only to find that it flew through the air and plopped itself right back down next to his shoe._

Horrified, he stumbled back and almost tripped on the Furby that had followed him and was now circling the floor around his feet.

He ran out into the parlor and slammed the door behind him, trapping it in the kitchen.

Little did he know that the demonic toy did not find doors to be a problem.

Appearing behind him, floating in midair, the Furby gave a heinous cackle,

"WHOOOPEEE!"

Then sailed across the room, clamping its beak down on Erik's backside with a snap.

Erik jumped about five feet into the air, narrowly missing the ceiling.

Frantically, he grabbed the thing and yanked at it as hard as he could, but the Furby just growled and hung on.

Desperate, the Phantom turned and smashed his rear end into the wall, finally dislodging the mechanical terror.

Apparently unaffected, it slid down the wall with a "WHEEEEEE!" and landed with a thwump on the carpet.

It shook itself off and slowly approached the Opera Ghost.

Afraid for his life, the Phantom launched himself, spatula first, at it.

He was stopped in midair by the Furby.

It started chuckling manically and headed underneath his floating torso.

He, he, he, he, he…

Tee…he…

It stopped and rotated upside down, gliding upwards and attaching itself to Erik's chest.

As the Phantom watched, it narrowed its eyes and started rocking back and forth.

The shiny orbsglowed a demonic red and lime green smoke started wafting off its fake fur.

It muttered squeakily,

"Coco hate children."

Heh, heh,

"Coco possess trap door lover and annihilate them."

Heh, heh,

"_and then take over the world."_

Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh…

The ranting Furby did not notice, but Erik's hands were free and he had the spatula at the ready.

As the Furby rocked backwards he wedged it underneath the cackling fuzz ball and pried it off.

It flew across the room and the Phantom landed on the floor with a thump.

He sprang up, ready for action, and lunged at the toy, which was turned on its head and shrieking things no children's toy should have in its vocabulary.

He brought the kitchen appliance down with a WHAP! directly on top of it.

Stunned, the Furby lay there as Erik ran and grabbed a cage from another room, shoved it in with the spatula, and threw it into the torture chamber.

Sliding back the viewing panel, he looked on, relieved, as the furry terror, now recovered, tried it's hardest to chew the bars of its cage off with its little yellow beak.

When that failed, it tried to teleport out, but it found it could not.

Getting annoyed, it threw itself in every direction, becoming a fuzzy blur.

Its metal prison started rocking around violently, making hideous screeches as it hit the glass floor.

Worried, the Phantom triggered the starting mechanism.

He watched as it slowly started to get hot and the Furby began to panic.

It oozed purple slime that really did nothing more than make a mess and it rolled its eyes around wildly.

The temperature spiraled up in the hundreds and it reached melting point.

As chunks of fur burst into flame and it started to internally combust, the Furby gave one last, horrid screech,

"Oh no! I'M MELTING! YOU $&#$$$ &&&$$$#&$$#$$# &&$$ BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP PHANTOM!"

"I HATE YOOOOOOU!"

"WHAAAA…!"

With that it exploded, leaving only its little plastic sensor chip, which lasted a few minutes longer before disintegrating with a sizzle.

Erik cut off the heat and stared disgustedly at the charred lump of plastic.

It let out one more burst of green smoke before collapsing in on itself and turning into a pile of goo.

He shook his head, closed the viewing panel, and limped out of the room with his hand covering his sore bottom.

Later, as he changed into new clothes he saw the extent of the damage that the Furby had wreaked.

His pants were dotted with holes in places that he did not even think the fuzz ball had the ability to reach.

He shivered at the thought and then went immediately and burned them, dumping the ash into the lake.

WINNER: Erik

LOSER: The Demonic Furby


	11. Erik vs José the Dancing Skeleton

Sorry I have not updated in so long, but our phone line was down due to the snow and a faulty wire. It has been driving me crazy – I went on someone else's computer the other day and I only had time to check to see what stories were updated and to also type up a few reviews.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Thank you, all of my reviewers!

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Erik vs. José the Dancing Skeleton**

A human skeleton named José had barged into the bathroom when Erik was in the tub, singing the KUMBIAH camp song and tap dancing across the tiles, bony heels a-clicking, interrupting a jolly good game of kill the fop.

Dismayed, the Phantom dropped his miniature lasso, candle, and homemade Fop voodoo doll into the sudsy water and then grabbed a loofa, brandishing it at the shimmying set of bones.

Ignoring him, it hopped up on the vanity and started doing a one-skeleton dance line while belting out "New York, New York."

It snapped its fingers and a black top hat and a cane popped out of thin air.

Erik watched, stunned, as it went on to do the whole "All that jazz" number, "Silver Bells", and "Jellicle Cats" in various voices.

Then it spied Erik amidst the bubbles.

It flew into the tub with a giggle and started tickling the Opera Ghost with gusto.

This caused a fountain of suds to erupt from the Phantom's nose, squirting the skeleton and anything else that was in range.

He spluttered and sunk down into the water, trying his hardest to bash the gleeful, tickling maniac over the head with the loofa. Flailing around like a demented mongoose and hissing, he managed to knock the skeleton's top hat off.

It froze, watching as its matte black crown sunk beneath the surface with a glurp, and then started sobbing uncontrollably, using Erik's hair as a tissue.

The twitching Phantom had had just about enough.

He flew out of the tub, modesty be damned, and tore out of the room, running stark naked down the hall.

Skidding to a halt, he dove into his bedroom and flung his door shut, locking it securely, and then squeezed behind the organ.

Huddled on the floor, he waited for over an hour before he deemed it safe enough to come out and tread carefully to his closet.

Donning his usual attire and then grabbing a black velvet mask, he slipped out through a secret door and walked the perimeter of his house. Cautiously, he peeped into various rooms, trying to ascertain where the troublesome set of bones was.

He finally found it in the parlor sitting in his favorite chair reading a book. To get a better view, he decided to crawl into the fireplace.

Now, hanging by his feet from an advantageously placed pole in the flue, (and looking disturbingly like a giant bat) he watched confusedly as the skeleton jumped up, threw the novel it was reading across the room, and cried,

"Elizabeth, HOW COULD YOU! You and Mr. Darcy are _meant for each other_!"

ARRRRGHHH!

It sank back down in the chair, sighed, and then eyed the fireplace.

Erik, wondering what it was up to looked on curiously.

It pulled itself up and then headed for the fireplace. Snapping its fingers, a match, lighter fluid, and a gigantic wad of newspaper appeared. Erik, realizing what it was going to do, tried to pull himself up but found that one leg of his pants was stuck on a rusty nail sticking out of the brick wall.

He frantically tugged at his pants as the skeleton threw the newspaper into the grate and then poured at least half the bottle of lighter fluid on top of it.

With a hiss, the matched flared to life and it was thrown in.

The newspaper alighted with a WOOSH! At the same time that Erik ripped himself free. The Phantom fell straight into the flames with a yelp, startling the skeleton that had started to look around the room for the book it had chucked.

It watched, stunned, as a living ball of fire leaped out of the grate and made for the door.

Following, it saw it rush through the house and then bobble outside to the lake, where it made a great leap and splashed into the water.

After a moment, it caught some movement where the flame had disappeared.

Floating to the surface with a sizzle was a man clothed completely in black, with a melted black velvet mask plastered to his face. A good part of his shirt was burned off and most of his hair was singed to the point of cracking off.

He was moaning softly and muttering angrily to himself,

"_Damn, possessed, physically impossible, annoying, skeleton of evil_."

"I shall destroy you…" he tried to paddle himself back to shore but found that he could barely raise his arms, "…as soon as I am physically able."

He shot a death glare in the direction of the now terrified set of bones.

It froze and then shakily raised its fingers.

"_Oh no_! You put those down! I am _not _through with you."

It shivered in fright and then snapped them, disappearing into thin air.

Erik gave a shout,

"YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!"

But it was of no use. The skeleton was gone.

He feebly swam back to shore and climbed out, watching as his clothes disintegrated off, some pieces sticking to his burnt skin, and shuddering at the memory of the invasion of his home by the cheerful, dancing skeleton.

It had been a frightening and abusive day for the Phantom and he headed inside wearily to go and nurse his wounds.

WINNER: José the Dancing Skeleton

LOSER: Erik


	12. BOUNS:Carlotta vs A Mysterious Opponent

**THIS CHAPTER IS EXTREMELY RANDOM!**

**THE PEOPLE ARE OUT OF CHARACTER IN SOME PARTS,**

**A FEW SECTIONS OF THIS PROBABLY WILL NOT MAKE SENSE,**

**AND I WAS NOT EVEN GOING TO POST THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE, BUT IT WAS JUST SO FUNNY THAT I COULD NOT RESIST!**

This has to be the longest chapter I have ever written. Eleven pages! Yay! 

My appearance is listed on my bio page, if you want to check.

**Please remember that BONUS chapters are supposed to be a little wacky. **

**Oh, and this is not really edited, seeing as I was not even going to post it.**

Thank you to all of my reviewers!

**Erik for President- **I might attempt a SpongeBob chapter soon. "Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" has been playing over and over in my head for days now. I think my subconscious mind has been trying to give me a hint.

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**BOUNS: Carlotta vs. the Mysterious Opponent**

Hello dear readers and welcome to our second edition of BONUS: What Would Erik Do?

I am currently standing on the _rooftop_ of the Opera Populaire observing our bloodthirsty, vicious opponents!

In one corner we have, straight from her dressing room and foaming at the mouth, Carlotta!

Unfortunately, our other opponent has not shown up yet, but we'll wait a few minutes to see what happens.

Carlotta is getting impatient and has pulled out a parasol…

Now she's taking out a machete and is sharpening the tip of it…

And…

What was that?

It looks as though Erik has somehow gotten onto the roof!

He's sprinting towards the ring and it looks like the Authoress is following him!

She's gaining…

AND…!

OUCH! That had to hurt!

She just tackled him to the ground!

He's saying something…

Let's get closer.

Okay – here it is –

"Let go of me you little…"

"NO! You are _not_ supposed to be the opponent for this match!"

"Hey!"

The Phantom is trying to claw his way over to the ring.

"Do not force me to use one of my forks on you!"

"Gah! Stick me with all of the forks that you want, you little vixen! I_ am _getting into that ring, whether you like it or not!"

He's attempting to break free by jiggling up and down and slithering back and forth!

The Authoress is clinging tightly to Erik's middle.

"Hmm…I kind of like this…"

"Must get to Carlotta!"

"Must…KILL!"

"Humph! Is that any way for a Phantom to behave? I thought that I constructed your character to be better than that!"

"KILL!…KILL!…KILL!"

"Get some class!"

She's boxing his ears…

And giving him a wet willie…

Erik is still trying his hardest to shake her off.

GASP! She's pulled a red notebook out of thin air!

"Behold! The crimson notebook of DOOM!"

"Ahahahahahahahahaha!"

The Opera Ghost is starting to look a little anxious.

She's writing something…

Oh man!

Jesus Christ!

She is inhuman!

The Phantom is now dressed in ruffly pink and white lingerie and is sporting a new crystal encrusted magenta mask!

What's this…!

He's gone into shock and is now seizuring uncontrollably!

The Authoress is laughing triumphantly…

Now she's dragging him off…

And…what is she…?

Oh my G…OKAY! I think we should get back to the match, now!

BUT WAIT…!

The ring is empty! Where did Carlotta go?

Hmm…my assistant just told me that she's left the building. Here's a note…

It seems as though she thinks we do not _a-love _her enough since we didn't _a-give her-a the a-ten-si-ion that-a _she deserved. And she is highly offended and will not be coming back.

Oh, well!

Since we don't have a match anymore today I guess that's it.

So, see ya next…

"WAIT!"

The authoress has decided to grace me with her prescence!

"I have decided in lieu of the…circumstances… that I will substitute Erik in Carlotta's place."

The Authoress has decided…

"Please stop that."

The Authoress has just asked me to…

"Shut up or you will get hurt!"

Um, sorry…wait a second… we don't have someone to pit against Erik.

"Oh yes we do…"

But…

"Humph! Just ring the bell and see."

"And you can go back to how you usually talk when I am no less then twenty feet away from you."

How about five feet?

"What is it with the annoying characters today? No, you may not. Did you see what I did to Erik over by that statue? Yes? Well do not make me do anything close to that to you."

Somehow I find that I'm shivering even though it isn't really cold up here. I wonder why?

"You bet you do."

"I am going now."

OKAY!

Erik is now in the ring and he's still wearing lingerie.

DING>

And there's the bell!

Erik is standing there eyeing the Authoress who has just climbed on top of a statue and is staring at the sky and rubbing her hands evilly.

There's nothing going on in the ring…

Wait!…

I hear music…

Is that…Be Our Guest from Beauty and the Beast?

YUP, it is.

I have a _bad_ feeling about this, folks.

Whatever's coming was meant for _Carlotta._ It has to be something evil and torturous.

The music's getting louder…

AND…

A CHANDELIER HAS JUST POPPED OUT OF THIN AIR!

AND IT'S LOADED WITH SILVERWARE!

TOTINIG WEAPONS!

The glittering piece of household décor is lowering itself into the ring…

All of the appliances are jumping off and getting into battle formation…

It's dissappearing...

Erik is…

SOMEBODY HAS JUST SHOVED THE AUTHORESS OFF OF THE STATUE AND IS TAKING HER PLACE!

It's…

GERRY!

He's covered in filth, dressed in a kilt of some kind, and has war paint plastered all over his face!

He's pointing down to Erik and shouting -

"Ahahahahahahahaha! You #&!$$& imposter! You almost killed me but I am BA-AAACK! Yes, after living down in the cellars eating rats and stealing clothes from prop rooms for the last two chapters I have come to get my revenge! I have tamed the cutlery that you attacked me with and they have spawned into an army of darkness that is at my beck and call!"

Erik is desperately searching around for a weapon and the Authoress is glaring daggers at Gerry.

"I did not tell you to push me off the statue!"

"Quiet! Or I shall smite thee with my forks of darkness!"

"As if! My forks are most definitely more powerful than your forks!"

"I find that _very _hard to believe."

"You are just asking for it, do you know that?"

"Asking for what, _exactly_?"

"THAT IS IT! I AM GOING TO TAKE YOU DOWN YOU DERANGED, KILT WEARING, INSUBORDINATE CHARACTER!"

"Oh, I did not mean you Erik, dear. Please do not try to jump off the roof. I can assure you that your punishment is done for the day!"

"And you! You will rue the day you did not do all that the Authoress asked of you!"

Gerry's laughing uncontrollably -

"You are…quoting…lines from the...musical now? That is _extremely_ pathetic!"

"ARGH!"

The Authoress is running across the roof to Erik…

She's writing something in her notebook…

WOW! A sword of fire has appeared in the Opera Ghost's hand!

"You, Phantom, are the commander of my army. Use this sword well."

The Authoress has left Erik in the ring and is climbing on top of another statue!

Now she's pointing to the sky…

"MY ARMY – TO ME!"

Oh my God! Thousands of forks have appeared out of thin air and they are flying in formation towards the ring!

The authoress is signaling to Erik…

"Commander! I swear to God, if you defeat Gerry I will never put you in lingerie, EVER again!"

It looks like the Phantom has taken heart from that little speech and is now signaling boldly for the forks to descend.

Gerry's forks have raised their various weapons and are taking aim…

AND THEY'VE FIRED!

Some of the Authoress' forks have fallen!

The rest have reached the ring and are attacking the opposing army!

THIS IS INCREDIBLE!

Cutlery is flying everywhere!

It's…WOAH! That was close - I almost got hit by an arrow!

Yikes! A cannonball just whizzed by my head!

EEP! And another!

It seems…as though…they're aiming for…me!

Yeouch! My butt! My butt is on fire!

Oh no! They've cornered me!

God, I don't wanna die!

I'm too young!

Please, have mercy!

No!

NO!

_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…_**ack!**

Hello! Crimson Hint here! I am sorry but it looks as if our commentator's life has been cut short by Gerry's army.

Death by pocketknife and toothpick…

That had to be painful.

But do not worry, I will bring him back to life for the next BONUS chapter, if you would like.

I have to wonder…

Where did this go wrong?

How did it get so out of hand?

This was supposed to be a Carlotta vs. chapter!

Oh, well! At least it is funny!

Now let us get back to the fight!

Forks were flying everywhere as the battle raged on. Both Gerry and the Authoress held their positions on their statues; each sending death glares in the other's direction.

Erik waded into the area where the heaviest fighting was going on and started swinging his sword around wildly, melting pieces of cutlery left and right.

Gerry's forks noticed and dog piled him.

The Authoress' troops came to the rescue just in time using a giant flame gun that the she had conjured.

The Phantom fled to another corner of the ring while both sides went at it, Gerry's side using kitchen utensils and other household (or opera…hold) items and the Authoress' side using magical weapons of mass destruction that she teleported in.

Just as it was beginning to look like World War Three had suddenly come upon the city of Paris from atop the opera house, the tide turned in the Authoress' favor.

She jumped up with a shriek, black cloak billowing about her form, and sprouted midnight black wings.

"MY FORKS – TO ME!"

They all stopped what they were doing and followed the Authoress, who had taken off and was heading straight for Gerry.

He gave a shout and dove off of his statue, falling to the rooftop with a thump right at the feet of a waiting Erik.

Before he could get out another word, the Phantom plunged his sword into his opponent's back, muttering,

"Never again, lingerie, never again, lingerie, never again, lingerie, never again, lingerie, never again."

Twitching and smoldering from Erik's sword, Gerry lay there, dead as a doornail - or a kitchen appliance. For with their leader's death they all collapsed onto the ground with a clatter, regular cutlery once more.

The Authoress landed gracefully next to Erik and said in a huff,

"I will probably never know how he enabled those forks to move like that."

She turned to the remaining forks and said,

"I CONGRAGULATE YOU ON A JOB WELL DONE!"

Pointing up to the sky again she shouted,

"FLY MY FORKS! FLY!"

As one, they all jumpedoff of the roofand zoomed into the air, disappearing a few hundred feet up.

She then sauntered up to the Phantom and put her arms around his waist.

"I thought that only I had the power to do that with the forks."

Erik looked down at her and shuddered.

_Will you please refrain from touching me, mademoiselle_.

"Oh, that is so cute! You are trying to get back into your "I am a block of ice" Phantom mode!"

"Mademoiselle, please!"

The Authoress stepped back looking offended.

"You know full well what I can do to you if you displease me, as in evidence by what you are wearing."

The Opera Ghost turned white and backed up a few paces.

"You would not! You evil woman! I defeated Gerry for you! The least you could do is treat me respectfully!"

"Heh, heh, heh! I remember, _Phantom_, that you were hiding in the corner of the ring for most of the time."

"Yes, but I killed him."

The Authoress sagged, defeated, realizing that he was correct.

"Oh, alright! No more lingerie."

She snapped her fingers and Erik was back in his usual Phantom apparel.

"But that does not mean that I cannot hug you while I am here!"

She barreled into him, knocking him backwards off the roof.

Clasping him to her body tightly, she flew around the opera house, careening wildly and giggling happily.

Through the whole flight the Phantom was shouting madly and clinging to the giddy Authoress, afraid for his life.

After about ten minutes they landed and she released Erik, who promptly scurried off, leaving her standing there, dejected and alone.

She looked over to the corpse slumped on the ground.

"Well, it is just me and you, Gerry. What should I do with you?"

Making her wings vanish, she walked over and rolled him onto his back.

She studied his painted face for a minute, thinking.

"Hmm…I do not believe that I am through with you yet."

Suddenly a maniacal gleam lit up her brown eyes and she whispered down to the body,

"_No, I am definitely not through with you_."

She scooped him up and headed for the door leading back inside.

"It just so happens that I am _very_ good at bringing people back from the dead."

WINNER: The Authoress and Erik

LOSER: Gerry and his fork army of darkness

The commentator is still lying on the roof somewhere.

Oh, well.

I will just leave him there for now.


	13. The Authoress vs The Notebook

**I am putting a little bit of a story line in these next few chapters. Just like I did for the Erik/Gerry chapters. It is all leading up to a big show down sometime near New Years (I never did say what I did with Gerry)(Heh, heh, heh.). I am thinking that I will put reviewers in for a chapter because I need people to be in the army. If any of you want to be in it, just put your appearance, personality,and a weapon in your review.**

Thank you all of my reviewers!

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**The Authoress vs. The Notebook**

Erik walked into his lair, coming from a shopping trip above ground and carrying a mound of packages in his velvet-clad arms.

Nudging the parlor door open with his foot and staggering inside, he prepared to put his load down when he came face to face with what he believed to be a living nightmare.

Sitting there on the sofa, sipping a cup of tea made from _his_ samovar, and scribbling furiously in her notebook, was the authoress.

Glancing up at him she chuckled sheepishly and said,

"Oh, hello. I am truly sorry for imposing, but it seems as though I am stuck here for some reason. My notebook just refuses to…"

She was interrupted by a shout from the shadowy form behind the boxes.

"Oh, no! You are not getting your devious hands on me again, you deranged woman!"

"I…" The Authoress reached out a hand, as if to try to calm him, but trailed off as she watched the Phantom toss his packages into the air, turn tail, and throw himself at the door. Erik almost made it, but in his hurry he snagged his foot on the edge of a Persian rug and went flying.

He crashed headfirst into an end table and toppled to the floor, unconscious, packages landing on top of him in a heap.

The Authoress sat there for a second, stunned, and then hesitantly whispered,

"_Erik?_"

When she did not receive an answer she carefully got up, eying the mound on the floor in front of her, and then cautiously approached the messy heap. She reached his head and knelt, grabbing the nearest packages and frantically tossing them off.

Leaning over and hefting a huge parcel off of his ear, she noticed that the wrapping was covered with blood.

"Oh…my…God."

"Erik!"

She shoved off the remaining boxes and bags and found that his porcelain mask was shattered and there was a huge, nasty looking gash across his cheek and forehead. It was oozing blood at an alarming rate, mostly from mask shards that had gotten embedded in his flesh, making his whole face look grotesquely sinister.

"No. Nnonononononononononono! Do not die! Please do not die!"

She tried to pluck the shards out of his cheek.

"I do not want to be the only authoress to kill off her main character by accident. I only said hello."

She looked around herself frantically.

"What do I do? What do I do?"

In her panic, she completely forgot about her notebook until she felt something poke her in the knee. Looking down she saw it floating there, about an inch off the floor.

Without hesitation she scooped it up and flipped it open to a fresh page, plucking her pen out from between the pages.

Just as she was about to write something that would hopefully help the sprawled out figure, scribbled writing started to appear across the page.

_Hello_.

She stared at it for a second, before realizing what was happening.

"Damn it!" she exclaimed, "It is just my luck that I purchased a possessed notebook! No wonder I could not get back!"

_You know, you really should write your reply in the notebook before I answer; it's proper etiquette. I mean, look at Tom Riddle's diary. Harry had to write in it. But I can make an exception, seeing as you're in such an emotional state. Aren't you wondering how I can float? Huh? Huh?_

It punctuated its last words with a shake.

"No! Just fix Erik!" She pointed it at the Phantom.

She felt it move, as if someone was writing on it, but when nothing happened she turned it back around.

_No can do. I suggest you clean up that bit of blood on his face and drag him onto a sofa. He's not dying, just unconscious._

"What! Can you not just make him wake up?"

_Technically, yes, I can, but I don't want to._

The Authoress glared at the notebook and hissed menacingly,

"_WHAT…DID…YOU…JUST…SAY?"_

_No._

She dropped the notebook and got up,mumbling to herself,

"Now where does Erik keep the lighter fluid…?"

Catching what she said, the notebook shot in the air and headed straight for her, slapping her head and then floating up to an unreachable but readable height.

The Authoress turned,

"You have reconsidered?"

_Not exactly. But I just wanted to tell you that Erik will be okay. And that this is part of the plot_.

"WHAT!"

_Sadly for you, yes, this is how I have written it. I took some …ahem…creative…ahem… liberties, since I left you alone that whole last chapter. Personally, I think I deserve it, considering what you put me through._

By this time the Authoress was holding a matchbox and the fire poker.

"Exactly what did I put you through?"

At her growl, the notebook shuddered and pressed itself up against the ceiling.

_You used me as a shield! I almost got hit by a fork! And…Hey!_

She had tried to throw the fire poker like a spear.

_Calm down! You wouldn't want to destroy your only way to get home, now would you?_

"Argh! That is right! You will not let me go home!"

She picked up a chair and threw it at the quivering rectangle of papers.

_Eeeek! Alright! THAT IS IT!_

It swooped down from the ceiling and exploded with a poof, leaving a green-clad, bow and arrow-toting, longhaired man in its wake.

The Authoress shouted and dove behind the couch.

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE LEGOLAS!"

The mystery man rolled his eyes, calmly walked behind the couch, and said,

_Don't be such a drama queen. I'm me, just in a less damageable form._

She looked up, "Wha…?"

He bent down and swiped the matches out of her hand.

_The notebook. Oh, and I like the character Legolas, that's why I chose this form. As to why I won't let you go back, I have something planned for you._

The Authoress shuddered and then jumped up, trying her best to look intimidating.

"You evil little office supply. You cannot just take over my story."

_Sorry dear, but while you're in the story, I'm your tool to write with, and I have free will, so I can._

She stared openmouthed at the character clone.

"This cannot be happening to me."

The notebook turned and walked over to Erik. The Authoress followed, watching as it picked up the Opera Ghost and plopped him down on the nearest couch. Snorting, he turned around, and faced the Authoress.

_Don't worry. Right about now Erik is having some very nice dreams. About Crabby Patties. And a certain sponge. He will be fine when he wakes up._

The Authoress just stared at him uncertainly.

_You know what, I think we should play a game of Uno. It's best with two players, don't you think?_

He put out his hand and a deck of cards sprouted out of him palm. He looked at the authoress, sighed, strode over, and picked her up. She shrieked and started cursing at him.

_Come, Now! It's just a game of Uno. You would think that I had ruined your whole life by making you stay here for a few chapters._

He walked into the kitchen, heading for the counter, but she grabbed the doorjamb and sobbed,

"I do not want to miss Christmas! Think of all of the candy canes and presents! And I cannot just abandon my Erik! He is lying there unconscious! Ple-eeeaaaaaaase!"

He smacked her on the rear, which made her let go and then dumped her next to the counter.

_Stop it! I'm saying you stay because I have a lovely chapter planned and you have to be here or it won't go right. There's nothing you can say or do to make me change my mind._

He glared at her and then started to shuffle the pack.

_Okay, we need chairs._

He snapped his fingers and two chairs from the Lord of the Rings Rivendell set appeared.

_Sit down and play. Erik will wake up soon, so I want to get at least a few games in before then._

The Authoress glared daggers at the elf/notebook and sunk down into one of the chairs, exasperated. She muttered, too quiet for it to hear,

"I am going to get you for this, I promise you, you evil notebook."

WINNER: The Notebook

LOSER: The Authoress

Guess what chapter is coming up!


	14. Erik vs Spongebob

**THE SPONGEBOB CHAPTER IS FINALLY HERE! I am sorry if there is anything wrong or off with it, but I have not watched any episodes of Spongebob Squarepants in a while.**

**Also, I am sorry that I have not updated for so long but I have had a very hectic holiday. **

**I saw Phantom again! My third time in six months! **

**Just to let everyone know, the gala in New York is on Monday. As of that show The Phantom of the Opera surpasses Cats as the longest running show in Broadway history!**

**And I started writing a new story. Hopefully it will be posted soon! **

**I am putting a little bit of a story line in these next few chapters. Just like I did for the Erik/Gerry chapters. It is all leading up to a big show down sometime in the near future (I never did say what I did with Gerry)(Heh, heh, heh.). I will put reviewers in for a chapter or two because I need people to be in the army. If any of you want to be in it, just put your appearance, personality,and a weapon in your review.**

I would like to thank all of my reviewers!

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Erik vs. Spongebob**

Erik was surrounded by bubbles.

They were swirling around him in a great mass of shimmering radiance, tossing him about and making him dizzy and confused.

Panicking, he tried to shout, but when he opened his mouth bubbles rushed in, fizzing up through his nose and down his throat, making him gag.

Reeling, the Phantom was helpless as he turned head over heels.

Just as he was about to throw up the bubbles cleared and he was deposited onto a sandbank.

It took him a few moments to steady himself, but when his vision stopped spinning he found that he was sitting on a mound of sand, facing an odd sort of town in the distance and completely, impossibly, _underwater._

He gasped and grasped his throat, his eyes darting around wildly.

Suddenly, with a huge flash the Authoress' notebook appeared before him. It was opened and written across its blank pages in blinking crimson letters was the message,

_YOU CAN BREATHE UNDERWATER, SILLY! HOW, YOU ASK? I AM AFTER ALL AN ALL-POWERFUL NOTEBOOK. ANYWAYS, YOU'LL BE GETTING A VISITOR SOON, SO I'D BETTER BE OFF!_

As soon as Erik finished reading it vanished with a poof of green smoke, leaving an afterimage of little dancing Legolases, which faded about a minute after.

Erik sat there for a second, perplexed, and then tentatively took a few short breaths.

He found that he could indeed breathe normally, even though he was underwater.

He sat there inhaling and exhaling deeply, amazed.

Just as he was getting comfortable with his new "ability" someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

He jumped and turned, coming face to boot with an exceptionally large and hairy man. Looking down at Erik, he opened his mouth and sang,

"WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA?"

He paused for a second and miniature clams popped out of the sand around him and cried,

"SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!"

Erik, by this line, was scrambling down the sandy slope at top speed, fleeing from the horrible music and terrifying creatures.

He ran blindly, stumbling over the occasional piece of rock or coral, until he collided painfully with the side of a building.

With a "UF!" he fell to the ground, staring upwards at the offending structure and then over to a sign saying "The Krusty Krab".

MEANWHILE…

A certain sponge and his best friend Patrick were staring at Mr. Krabs' new plaque.

He had scuttled out of his office earlier that day and hammered it up on the wall behind the cash register, stating that this was his employees' Christmas present and that they would be working overtime to "earn" it.

At the news, Spongebob shouted gleefully and enthusiastically went back to making Krabby Patties.

Now the nautical duo were staring at the shiny plank of metal and wood and, as usual, Spongebob was up to something.

"Spongebob…I don't think…"

"Patrick! Mr. Krabs is going to love this!"

"Spongebob…"

The unnaturally yellow sea sponge was eagerly reaching for the plaque.

"Spongebob!"

"Relax, Patrick. I'm sure that if Mr. Krabs knew what we were doing he'd be all for it."

Just as his fingers brushed the surface a loud crash came from the front of the store.

Patrick looked over from his place in front of the counter and Spongebob poked his head out from behind the cash register.

There, sagging dazedly against the doorframe was a creature clothed entirely in black.

Its masked face was scanning the room.

Its fiery eyes jumped from Spongebob to Patrick to the other customers and then back to Spongebob.

The two sea creatures by the counter stood there uncertainly.

"Damn it all! I am going to make sure that woman is placed in the middle of the lake with fifty pound weights strapped to her legs when I get back from…" he eyed the scene in front of him, "wherever I am at this moment."

Spongebob squealed and dove to the floor.

"IT'S AN ALIEN FROM THE PLANET SNORGLE THAT'S COME TO TAKE US AWAY!"

Patrick just stood there.

Erik eyed the quivering yellow square in front of him and snorted. He was having an extraordinarily bad day.

He straightened and stepped inside the restaurant.

As he progressed towards the back of the room the things sitting at the tables fled, leaving only the two by the counter.

Peeking over the cash register, Spongebob saw the thing coming closer.

"_Patrick…_"

The starfish was staring at the creature's mask with a disturbing intensity.

"Ooooooooooo…_pretty._"

"_PATRICK…_"

Patrick snapped to and faced Spongebob.

"Patrick, what do we do? It's _coming_!"

The pink blob looked at the approaching curiosity.

"Maybe…it wants a Krabby Patty?"

Spongebob's eyes bugged out of his head.

"Yes! That's it!"

He rushed into the kitchen and brought out a huge tray of the burgers.

He carefully sidled up to the counter and plopped them down then dove behind the cash register once more.

Erik reached the two "things" left in the restaurant.

One was staring at his mask and drooling and the other was quivering behind some sort of metal box that looked vaguely familiar.

He looked at the pink star-shaped thing in front of him.

"Excuse me but where am…"

The yellow square, which he could now see was a giant sponge popped up from behind the counter and shouted, "KRABBY PATTY?" then cowered away from him, pointing to the mound on the tray next to him.

Erik, annoyed and disconcerted with the fact that something that he believed to be inanimate was talking to him, snapped,

"No. They look disgusting."

He swung around to face the pink creature and found its eyes opened wide in terror, staring uncertainly at something behind him.

Spongebob had snapped. All that ran through his seawater-filled brain at that moment was the phrase "_they look disgusting_".

Shaking with rage, he grabbed a Krabby Patty and with an animalistic growl flung it at the "alien".

Before he could figure out why the star-creature was staring like that, Erik felt something hit his head with a _thwump._

It splattered, flinging ketchup and mustard into his hair and dripping bread and pickles down his back.

He stood there stunned as he felt another one of the projectiles hit his back.

Spongebob threw the burgers as fast and as hard as he could, finishing off the plate in a matter of seconds.

Slowly the creature turned towards him, hands a-twitching, and reached into his jacket.

Spongebob squeaked and dove into the kitchen, grabbing more Krabby Patties and his spatula as he retreated into a corner.

Erik had followed the thing and saw that it had trapped itself.

_Perfect._

He started to swing the lasso around, causing sauce to fly everywhere and bread to splatter to the floor.

Cowering against the wall and clutching burgers in his shaking hands, Spongebob saw his friend sneak into the room and reach for the creature's mask.

Forgetting the danger, he jumped up and shouted, "Patrick, _NO!_!"

But it was too late, Erik's mask had come off and he was revealed in all of his macabre glory.

Realizing what had happened, his vision blurred then turned sickeningly red and he started chanting psychotically under his breath,

"KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL…"

As Spongebob watched, Patrick scuttled away, mask in hand, leaving him alone with the thing.

He stared at it, shuddering. It now looked terrifyingly beyond belief.

_It **was** an alien._

And it was going to kill him.

Shakily he flung his Krabby Patties at it and then brandished his spatula in front of him.

Erik approached the quivering yellow mass and easily knocked the spatula away.

"Heh, heh, heh…"

He smiled gruesomely and then whipped his lasso at it.

Spongebob screamed and then fainted, falling onto the kitchen tiles with a plop.

Just as he hit the floor the notebook appeared in the air, freezing both Erik and the lasso.

_Hello._ It wrote.

Erik growled at it and strained to break free.

_Oh, no. I'm not letting **you** go._

It twirled around to look at Spongebob, shivered, and then faced the Phantom once again.

_You've done enough damage for one dream. Plus, I need you back in the lair. The Authoress is getting antsy because you've been unconscious for so long._

It shuddered and then hurriedly scribbled,

_She's a terror. She was screaming at me so emphatically that I think that she went above a high C. Nearly broke my binding. Ugh."_

It floated down and nudged Erik in the shoulder.

_So you're coming back now. **Right now**._

With a last look at Spongebob it disappeared in a poof of smoke, taking the frozen Opera Ghost with it.

WINNER: Patrick – he is one of the only characters that actually removed his mask.

LOSER: Spongebob – I think he peed his pants at the end there.


	15. The Authoress vs The Notebook Cont’d

**I am putting a little bit of a story line in these next few chapters. Just like I did for the Erik/Gerry chapters. It is all leading up to a big show down sometime in the near future (I never did say what I did with Gerry)(Heh, heh, heh.). I will put reviewers in for a chapter or two because I need people to be in the army. If any of you want to be in it, just put your appearance, personality, and a weapon in your review.**

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed these past few months! There has been a question of an Erik vs. Harry chapter. I might do it – I am not sure but if I have the time I will definitely do my best to come up with something.

Also, I am sorry for the long hiatus – it is just that I have been sooooo busy! I cannot believe that time has passed so fast! I am glad to writing again and hopefully I will be able to update regularly from now on! My writing might be a little rusty since I have not written in so long!

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**The Authoress vs. The Notebook Cont'd**

Erik awoke to an earsplitting screech. Groggily he inched open his eyes a crack and then abruptly closed them when a searing wave of pain crashed through his head.

"Nrgh…"

At the sound of the phantom's pitiful moan the Authoress zoomed over to the couch where he was sprawled out and knelt beside him.

"Erik!" she urgently nudged him.

"Erik! Wake up!"

"Urgh…"

Through the pain, the Opera Ghost struggled to register who was speaking to him. Foggily, he was returning to consciousness and he was remembering what had happened earlier.

"_Please_. My notebook has gone renegade and I need your help!"

_Who…?_

Erik tried in vain to open his eyes once again.

_Dear God, is that…?_

"_Pleeeeeaaaase!"_ the Authoress hissed desperately.

_It is! It's that insufferable little…_

"Come on! _Please_! Before it comes back!"

_What is she…a notebook? Ugh…_

He weakly tried to clear his throat and then managed to gasp out,

"Go away evil woman…hope notebook will get you…"

The Authoress shuddered. The Notebook, a.k.a. "Legolas", had disappeared about a half an hour ago for some unknown reason. She had been desperately trying to find her way out of the cellars of the opera house only to find that she always ended up right back at the Phantom's doorstep. She was about to go into a different "hidden" passageway when she heard her injured charge.

She had hoped that he would be lucid enough when he awoke to maybe reason with. But now, seeing his zombie-like attempts to regain full consciousness, she realized that the possibility of escape was not looking too good for her.

_Hello._

"Eeek!" The Authoress squealed in surprise as the Notebook whispered into her ear from behind and then, instinctively seeking protection, scuttled on all fours underneath Erik's sofa.

She glared up at the notebook-elf wearily.

_Ha! You look like a crab! _The Notebook snickered.

"Look who is talking…dandy." Her eyes narrowed and she scooted further back.

The Notebook bent down to stare underneath the couch.

_Hey! Come out of there. I woke up Erik – he's all safe and sound now, so you can come and play Mexican train with Gimli and me._

There was stunned silence under the sofa for a moment and then the Notebook barely heard the Authoress whisper,

"Gimli…you…brought…Gimli…into…"

_Hello, that's where I've been for the past half hour._ It was met with more silence.

Underneath the sofa the Authoress was shaking with anger. _This is not happening! That…**thing** is taking over my story. Argh! I cannot let it do this! It is mine…mine!_

Angrily, she shouted,

"GIMLI! YOU BROUGHT _GIMLI _INTO MY STORY! YOU BASTARD NOTEBOOK! YOU ARE RUINING EVERYTHING!"

The Notebook straightened and huffed, _No I'm not. And it's **my** story now. So, come on out of there!_

"NO I WILL NOT COME OUT, EVEN IF YOU MADE VAN HELSING APPEAR IN A SEE-THROUGH LEOPARD PRINT SHIRT AND SPARKLY GOLD PANTS AND MADE HIM DO THE LAMBADA ON TOP OF ERIK'S COFFIN!"

The Notebook, upon hearing this, underwent a freakishly rapid mood change and hissed angrily,

_You will get out of there…right…now…or I will drag you out and turn you into Raoul De Chagny. And you won't be the heroic version, I can assure you._

The Authoress twitched at its threat, but held her position.

"I will not yield to the likes of you!"

_Fine, _the notebook snorted, _I hope you like being a man, which won't be for very long seeing as I'm going to string you up like a piñata, import a horde of Erik-loving Phan girls into the lair, and supply them with enough artillery to blow up half the continent!_

It dramatically threw up its hands, releasing a wave of green, sparkly magic that flew under the couch. After a few seconds of frizzling and flashing all was silent.

The notebook smirked and said in a singsong voice,

_Oh Roulie! Get that fluffy, blond head of yours out from under there!_

There was no answer.

The evil appliance frowned,

_Raoul?_

It took a step closer.

_Raoul? Is there something wrong? Are you stuck?_

Concerned, it knelt and peeked under the sofa. What it saw was not a cowering De Chagny but a sneaker sole, poised and ready.

Before it could react it was kicked hard in the face. Surprised and wounded, it gave a yelp and backpedaled back as far as it could.

As soon as it was out of the way a black blur zipped out from under the sofa and dashed to the opposite end of the room.

The Notebook stared, stunned, as the Authoress proceeded to grab the fire poker from the fireplace, some metal tongs, and a candle.

_H…how did my magic not work on you? _It angrily stomped a foot down onto the Persian carpet. _I'm the one in charge now! I should be able to do anything I want with this story._

The Authoress glared at it from her position opposite it,

"I do not…wait a…aha!" A knowing smirk spread across her face. "So that is what happened."

The Notebook stomped its foot again.

_What? _It snarled.

"My guess," she pondered as she thoughtfully poked the wall nearest her with the fire poker, "is that since I am the creator of this story and not actually _part_ of it I am immune to anything but physical force from the characters or the existing props."

She cocked her head in confusion,

"Technically, if I was still in charge I could change myself, but since I am not writing…"

She trailed off and glanced at Erik, who was conscious enough to be trying to feebly lift himself up to a sitting position.

The Notebook, standing near the couch with one hand still covering its injured but "magically" healing nose, tromped over to tower over the Phantom.

_Ah, I see sleeping beauty has fully awakened,_ it commented viciously.

Still dazed, Erik's eyebrows creased as he processed what the elf-like thing standing by him said. Slowly, a look of absolute humility and horror crossed his shadowed eyes before his entire body went ridged with fury.

Mind and body rapidly catching up he hissed,

"Be _very_ careful what you say to me, sir. You will not like the consequences of your insults, I can guarantee you."

The Notebook opened its mouth to reply, but quick as lightning Erik whipped out his lasso and tossed it toward his offender. A split second before the lasso reached it, the Notebook quickly made a gesture with its free hand and froze both the loop of catgut and the Opera Ghost.

Watching in horror, the Authoress tried to think of a way to help Erik, but could not. She was completely powerless. The only luck that she had was that she was immune to the changes that the Notebook could deal out.

Brandishing her weapons in anger, she charged the Legolas look alike.

"What have you _done _you horrible notebook!"

Seeing her running in its direction, the Notebook thought fast and with a wave of its hand magically dragged Erik in front of itself.

The Authoress skidded to a halt, not wanting to hurt the Phantom.

"Let him go!" She tried to shove the fire poker around him, but the evil office supply raised Erik's arm to block her.

_Oh no you don't! _It poked its head around the Opera Ghost's other side.

The Authoress whirled around and chucked the candle at it. It ducked and while it was distracted she darted around Erik and clamped onto the Notebook's head with the tongs.

As soon as it realized what had happened, it started panicking.

_Arrrrrrgggh! Holy shit! My hair! Leggo! My beautiful hair!_

The Authoress pounced on it and it toppled over onto the rug. She growled and spat at it,

"Unfreeze Erik now or I swear to God I will rip your hair out!"

The Notebook trembled from its position on the floor and shouted,

_Alright, alright! Just let **go **of the hair! _It raised its hand and twirled it around. Suddenly, Erik slumped over and toppled to the floor next to them.

Groaning, he rolled onto his back and threw an arm over his head. Relieved, the Authoress jumped off of her captive and went to check on the traumatized Opera Ghost. As soon as she was off of it, the Notebook scooted as far away from her as possible.

_You're crazy!_

In sheer terror it backed up against a chair and knocked it over. The Authoress, hearing the thud as it hit the carpet, turned her attention to the escaping "elf".

"Do not move if you value your life, you pointy eared freak!" She raised the fire poker that she had somehow managed to hold on to through all of the chaos.

The Notebook, sensing more violence in the air, quickly raised a hand.

_Don't even think about it! Make one move and I will take complete control of Erik and make him toss you into the torture room._

"You would not!" The Authoress shrieked.

_Oh yes I would! _It made a gesture towards the sprawled out Phantom, _In fact, I just did._

The Authoress fearfully glanced over to where theOpera Ghostwas now getting up, aches and pains forgotten.

_You've become quite a pain – I need to control you somehow – so I've decided to have Erikins make sure you behave._

The Notebook chuckled in glee as it watched its handiwork slowly and menacingly approach. Scrambling up, the Authoress tried to reason with the nearing character.

"Erik! Snap out of it! Come on!"

He completely ignored her as he shuffled forward and stopped in front of her.

From its position on the floor, the evil office supply smirked up at its handy new minion.

_Grab her and lock her in the mirror chamber Erik. _It gestured off in its general direction. The Phantom, as if on autopilot, swiftly locked the Authoress in a steely embrace before she could react.

"As you command, mas…" He trailed off and started as if shocked. "What in the world am I doing?" Confused, he released the Authoress and took a step back. "How did I…? Who…?" The other two occupants of the room looked at him in shock. Then, as if someone had turned on a switch, the Notebook did another freakishly rapid mood change.

_You imbecile! How dare you disobey me!_

Angrily, it whipped a huge green ball of magic at him, bowling Erik over and knocking him across the carpet.

Both froze as they stared at the Opera Ghost's smoldering form.

"Did…did you just **kill** him!" Worried, the Authoress started towards Erik but stopped abruptly as he surged to a stand. Scarred face twisted in anger and caked with dried blood from his injury; the Phantom was a gruesome sight.

"_Master," _He glanced over to where the Notebook was still squatting on the floor. "_it would be my pleasure to…take care of…this annoying little pest."_

Smugly, the Notebook looked towards where the Authoress was standing.

_I really suggest that you go quietly. By the looks of it my **servant **would happily rip your head off if I let him._

Both furious and terrified, the Authoress, not wanting to comply and seeing no other option, bolted for the entrance to the tunnels that she was going to try earlier. Erik swiftly followed until the Notebook irritably shouted,

_Erik, let her go! She'll just end up back here. Let her scamper around with the rats for a while._

The Phantom abruptly turned back and halted in front of his master. It hefted itself up, quickly rubbed its now healed nose, and stomped off, gesturing for the Opera Ghost to follow. He obediently did, trailing after it like a macabre specter.

WINNER: As much as it pains me to say this – The Notebook

LOSER: The Authoress


	16. Round Two: A Gerry Sandwich

**I am putting a little bit of a story line in these next few chapters. Just like I did for the Erik/Gerry chapters. It is all leading up to a big show down sometime in the near future (I never did say what I did with Gerry)(Heh, heh, heh.). I will put reviewers in for a chapter or two because I need people to be in the army. If any of you want to be in it, just put your appearance, personality, and a weapon in your review.**

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed these past few months! There has been a question of an Erik vs. Harry chapter. I might do it – I am not sure but if I have the time I will definitely do my best to come up with something.

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Round Two: A Gerry Sandwich**

The Authoress ran through the tunnels blindly. Afraid of being pursued she zigzagged in and out, down and around, until finally she realized that Erik was not coming after her. Slowing down with a sigh of relief she tried to see where she was through the darkness, but realized that she had no clue as to what part of the cellar she was in.

Carefully, she navigated her way through the musty labyrinth. Following the damp wall with one hand she went up and down staircases, through a huge chamber with at least a dozen doorways, across a small manmade stream, and then finally down a particularly moldy passageway. It was there, while she was concentrating on not getting her hand stuck in any of the fungus that was on the walls, that she suddenly caught her leg on something and tripped.

Falling to the ground with an "Uf!" she laid where she fell, stunned.

Then, suddenly, something by her feet let out a low moan.

The Authoress stiffened but did not move as she tried to figure out what was behind her. After a few seconds of silence she felt something slowly creeping up her foot. It inched up to her ankle and then abruptly, without warning, it latched on and dragged her whole leg up into the air.

"Oooooooo! It's a sub-marine! Whizzz…whizzzzzzz…whump!"

Her foot hit the wall.

"Wait! You imposter! I shall kill you!"

She felt the hand let go, but before she could feel relieved a giant mound of flesh barreled into her and pinned her down.

"_Argh!"_ she flailed around as it twisted her into a wrestling hold.

"How do you like that, Mr. Fancy Phantom, or should I say, IMPOSTER!" It lifted her into the air and flipped her around so that she was over its head.

"_Gerry?" _The Authoress choked out.

"I am THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA!" he snorted and then made as if to throw her.

"Wait, er…Mr. Phantom, I beg of you do not be hasty!" She grabbed onto his arms for dear life. "Put me down! _Pleeeeease _put me down! I swear to God I am not this 'imposter'!"

He hesitated and then,

"Alright."

She was roughly dumped onto the ground. As she flailed around, trying to keep from toppling over into the mold on the wall next to her, she bumped into something and sent it flying. Gerry gave a shout and dived for it but it was too late. She could hear glass breaking and then liquid spilling onto the stone.

"Ah, now why did you have to go and do that for?" She could her him rustling around and then with a grunt he knocked into the wall and slid down next to her. "It took me days to find that!"

The Authoress stared at where she thought he was in the darkness. Hesitantly, she questioned, "Find…_what_…exactly?"

Gerry emitted an agonized groan and then slurred out, "_Wine_! The best the kitchens had!" He motioned over to where the broken bottle was, his arm a black blur in the darkness.

"That was the last of the crate. It was mightily…deliciously…_ungh…"_

Gerry trailed off and slumped over onto the Authoress.

Unprepared, she almost toppled over. Quickly catching herself, she hefted him up and into a sitting position.

"God, you are heavy!"

Taking a deep, calming breath, she cautiously felt her way up to his face and then gave him a little slap, "Come on! Gerry, wake up!"

He started and then slowly straightened. "Ugh…what do you want?"

The Authoress thought fast. "Uh…do you by any chance have someplace to stay down here?"

"_Yeeessss..."_ he purred and then made as if to slouch back down, "but I do not want to go to bed…I am too sleepy." He reached over and patted her shoulder, "You…are…so…_comfy…"_

The Authoress cringed as he leaned his full weight against her again. "_Okay…_Gerry, does this place you have down here have any…_supplies…_like candles…and…weapons of mass destruction?"

She felt him nod yes.

"Alright, well, can you tell me where it is?"

Compliantly he lifted his arm across them and over to the right. "_Over that way_. Just …keep…following…the…mold."

His arm collapsed over the Authoress and he passed out completely.

A few minutes went by. Once the Authoress was sure that Gerry was sleeping like a baby she carefully clawed her way out of his 'embrace'. Silently, she pushed herself up and took a few steps in the direction that he had pointed. Then, as she stepped down her foot knocked in to a discarded wine bottle and sent it rolling.

It banged noisily down the corridor, finally rolling to a stop somewhere in the distance. The Authoress froze, but she could already hear Gerry moving.

He craned his head towards her and desperately whispered, "_Do not leave me!"_

The Authoress hesitated, silently cursed her bad luck, and turned back to the drunken "Phantom".

As soon as she was in range he snatched up her hand and then tried to drag her back down next to him. The Authoress, not wanting to be part of a Gerry sandwich again, stubbornly remained standing.

"Oh, no! Gerry, you are coming with me or I am going to leave you here!" She tugged on her captured appendage.

Gerry clung tenaciously.

"_Please._ I am sure you have a nice, comfy bed waiting for you back…wherever your new '_lair'_ is."

"_NO!_" 

He pulled again.

The Authoress held her position.

"GERRY, I MEAN IT! _GET UP. _**RIGHT NOW!"**

Taken aback at the sheer volume of her last two words, he scrambled up and stood at attention in front of her.

"That is better. Now, since I cannot see very well, would you mind being a gentleman and leading?"

Grunting in response, he moved in front of her. Realizing that Gerry still had a vice-like grip on her arm and her hand was starting to tingle uncomfortably she requested,

"Er…Gerry, would you mind letting go of my arm? You are cutting off the circulation."

"Oh."

He dropped her arm and started off.

Stumbling in the direction that he went she worriedly shouted,

"Hey! I cannot see where you are going!"

"Humph…here take this…"

He thrust the end of his cloak in front of her and she quickly grabbed it.

With Gerry leading and the Authoress clinging to his cloak, they hiked through the tunnels until finally they came upon a lighted corridor.

The Authoress stared at the armed candelabras with recognition. _This looks just like the movie. Oh boy. This cannot be good._

Suddenly, Gerry turned and with a flourish whipped the cape out of her hands. He glowered at her and then swiveled around again, muttering, "_Evil woman…I was comfortable back there_."

Striding forward he growled over his shoulder, "I am sure you can follow me without assistance now."

The Authoress hurried after him.

They reached the end of the passageway and Gerry ducked into an alcove and then into a door that was set back into the stone wall.

Afraid of being left outside, the Authoress dashed in after him. Catching sight of the room beyond, however, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The entire chamber was made up to resemble the lair from the movie. It was slightly different, though, since there was, obviously, no lake and the furnishings were a bit more…rustic. The Authoress chalked it up to Gerry only being in the cellars for a few chapters.

The most disturbing, frightening, and downright creepy thing was that almost every surface that she could see was covered not in Christine paraphernalia, but in shiny sliver utensils.

And they were _moving_.

As soon as they caught sight of her they scattered like cockroaches into and under the various objects in the room.

Needless to say, the Authoress stood there, backed against the door jamb, twitching and muttering, "and the bells, bells, bells…and the jingling and the tingling of the bells, bells, bells…"

Gerry, completely ignoring the mass migration of silver around the room, dragged himself over to a mound of velvet blankets and plopped himself down on top of them. Instantly, he was asleep.

The Authoress, still frozen by the door, watched as one by one, spoons, knives, forks, and other kitchen appliances slowly crawled out of their hiding places and curiously inched towards her.

WINNER: Gerry, I guess.

LOSER: The Authoress


	17. Round Three: The Pansy Hustle

**I am putting a little bit of a story line in these next few chapters. Just like I did for the Erik/Gerry chapters. It is all leading up to a big show down sometime in the near future (I never did say what I did with Gerry)(Heh, heh, heh.). I will put reviewers in for a chapter or two because I need people to be in the army. If any of you want to be in it, just put your appearance, personality, and a weapon in your review.**

Wow! I have gotten so many reviews since the last chapter! Thank you all!

I went to see Phantom a couple of weeks ago and it was great! Sixth row!

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Round Three: The Pansy Hustle**

The animated appliances were approaching at an alarming rate. Snapping out of her silverware-induced state the Authoress hissed from her position by the door,

"_Gerry…GERRY!"_

The sleeping Phantom just twitched, rolled over, and muttered, "_Phantom…evil woman."_

In seconds, she was totally surrounded by animated forks, knives, and spoons. One piece of cutlery, a spoon, stepped out of the throng and hopped up on her shoe. The Authoress stared down at it warily.

"H…hello, there."

It quivered in attention at her words, and then, seeming emboldened, it jumped up onto her shoulder. Squeaking in surprise, the Authoress huddled as far back into the wall as she could and shut her eyes. After a few seconds, she could feel it shuffle around, and then something cold and hard brushed against her cheek.

Shivering in apprehension, she cracked open an eye.

The spoon was rubbing itself fervently against her like a contented cat.

Suddenly, she felt something barrel into her legs. Opening her eyes fully, she saw that the rest of the silverware had piled against her. Confused and scared out of her wits, she tried to scramble forward, but was stopped when they surged upward and covered her entire body in silver.

Weighted down, she sunk to the floor and watched helplessly as each piece of cutlery settled into what looked like a giant metal blanket. The spoon on her shoulder stayed up where it was, but curled into a little metal ball and plopped itself down into the curve of her neck.

For hours, the Authoress sat there, alert, waiting for any sign of movement from the mounds of silver, but none came. It appeared as though they had all fallen asleep.

As time passed, the silverware warmed to her body temperature and she started to feel quite cozy. After her traumatic flight from Erik's lair and her run in with Gerry, she was completely drained. Slowly, and without realizing it, her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

It was in that position – huddled against the wall and covered in a giant mound of forks, spoons, and knives- that Gerry found her when he awoke.

He stared down at the scene with disbelief.

_My army…my **comrades…**like…HER! _He turned away and strode across the room in disgust. _I refuse to believe this! Those little traitors! **I raised them by hand**!_

He stopped when he reached the organ on the other side of the room. Seating himself almost unconsciously, he began to play.

Loudly.

The Authoress was startled awake as booming music crashed though the room. Looking about her in alarm, she spotted Gerry hunched over the keyboard of what looked like a small organ.

_Oh. It is just him._

Fully awake now, she tried to get up, but realized that she was still covered in cutlery.

Feeling her move, the silverware started to wake up. Slowly, they rolled off of her and clattered to the floor.

Free, she jumped up and cautiously neared the madly playing Phantom.

Sensing her approach, he whirled around just as she reached the small dais that the organ was set upon. She stumbled back in surprise as Gerry flew out of his seat and glided towards her.

"Good evening, mademoiselle." He purred dangerously.

"Er…good evening, Ger…I mean, Phantom." The Authoress backed up as he advanced.

"May I ask, why…" she abruptly ran into a wall.

Seeing that he had the Authoress cornered, Gerry smirked. "Why? Good question…hmm…why you harassed me in the tunnels…"

"Hey! You were drunk…and if I remember correctly, _you _were the one trying to hold on to me for dear life!"

Gerry narrowed his eyes at her outburst and picked up where he left off. "befriended my kitchen appliances…"

She shuddered and whispered, "_they cornered me…Oh God…I could not even move…"_

"Wait…" he stopped about a foot away from her, "you did nothing to coerce my precious silverware to like you?"

The Authoress glowered at him, "they did that all on their own …no help from me!" shivered and rocked back and forth slightly. "you ignored me when I called for you to help me get them off…"

Gerry raised an eyebrow at her antics and stepped back. "I cannot believe that you are the woman who defeated me on the rooftop…I refuse to believe it!" He swiveled around, stalked over to the mound of blankets he had slept on, and plopped himself down with a huff.

"_But…_you _are_ crazy enough!" He looked over to where the Authoress was frozen against the wall, staring at him, "Dear God! I just _had _to go and drag YOU here, into _my…my…_sanctuary!" He threw himself back onto the velvets dramatically. "I am NEVER drinking again!"

Registering what he had just said, the Authoress, angered enough to forget the silverware, practically flew over to where he was laying, crashed into the makeshift bed next to him, and growled,

"_You…are such…a pansy. IN FACT, you were one of the easiest people to beat that I have **ever** come across!"_

Gerry calmly turned his head so that he was staring at the Authoress and then hissed,

"_Take that back_."

She crossed her arms and stubbornly replied, "NO! You attacked my Erik! _No one _messes with my character!"

"Aright."

In a flash, Gerry barreled into the Authoress and they went tumbling off of the pile of blankets and across the floor. Instinctively, she reached around from her position and tried to slap him. He knocked her hand away and tried to pin her down.

"I AM NOT A PANSY!"

She wiggled her arm free and managed to elbow him in the gut. "You evil GERRY! You killed Erik and just tossed him away!"

He grabbed her arm, but her leg came free and she brought it up between his knees. He whimpered, but held his position. "Mademoiselle, I _detest_ you!"

He flipped himself around and sat directly on her stomach. She stopped struggling, winded. "_I…" _she wheezed out, "_detest…you…too…"_

For a few seconds both of them sat there, too dazed to do anything. Then, getting a second wind, the Authoress flexed her fingers and dove them into Gerry's back, raking them down his shirt and tearing it to shreds.

He yelped in pain and jumped off of her. Following his movements carefully, she rolled herself over and stiffly pushed herself up.

Slowly, they turned and faced each other, exhausted.

"We are behaving like idiots, are we not?" the Authoress winced and carefully put a hand on her aching back.

Gerry stubbornly crossed his arms and glared at her. "Only one of us is the idiot, my dear. You provoked me, I…"

"I did not!" she shouted indignantly, stiffly lifted her hand off of her back, and crossed her arms to mirror Gerry's stance.

"I awoke this morning to see my faithful silverware…my SHINIES…piled on top of _you._" He sniffled a little and pouted in her general direction.

"Gerry…"

"Why must you call me that?" He crossed the distance between them and huffed in her face. "I am _the Phantom of the Opera_!"

The Authoress sighed resignedly at his outburst and muttered, "Yes, yes_, I_ _know._ Technically, you are a form of Phantom, but…" she poked his chest, "this is not your story."

There was a puzzled silence, and then Gerry glanced down at her, angered and confused, "_What are you talking about, mademoiselle?"_

"Okay…" she stepped away from him and took a seat on one of the packing crates littered about the room. Waving him over to sit at a crate opposite hers, she took a deep breath and began.

"Gerr…"

"_The Phantom of the Opera_!"

"Stop it." She glared at him until he snorted and archly turned his nose up at her. "You are insufferable!"

"Likewise, mademoiselle."

She growled at him menacingly, but stayed on the crate. "As I was saying…you _are_ the Phantom of the Opera…"

"Aha!"

"…_BUT, _not in this story. My character, Erik, is the Phantom is this fanfiction. It is his house on the lake that you were in, his gondolas that he tortured you in, his tunnels that you are living in, basically, his opera house. He is the one that takes the role of Phantom-haunting and whatnot. He knows the characters and the world he lives in…which is very different from your own."

Gerry started to get up in protest, but the Authoress continued, "In _your_ story, you are in the position of Erik in _this_ story. You are the main controller of your 'Phantom' environment." She scooted her self off of the crate and approached Gerry, who was now frozen in confusion.

"You belong in that world. The characters recognize you, you do Phantomy deeds, create your music…basically it is where you _fit."_

"_No…"_

"Have you noticed yet that the Christine Daae from your world and this one are not the same? What about your lair? And the cellars?_"_

Suddenly it hit him and he sagged in defeat.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Even the opera house is entirely different. Gerry…"

"Why…" he weakly murmured,

"Why do I call you that?" He nodded. "It is to distinguish you from the other Phantom. I call you Gerry, and I call Erik Erik. Those names are basically representations of what kind of Phantom you are." She snorted and looked at the pitiful state that Gerry was in. "Which I am not going to go into right now."

He nodded again and slumped even further down, so that he was almost ready to fall off the crate.

Feeling a twinge of worry for the forlorn character, she wrapped an arm around his torso and helped him to slowly stand up.

"I think that you should lay down for a little while."

"Okay."

He obligingly followed the Authoress over to his bed, where she dumped him on the covers and tossed a few throws over him.

Gerry stared dazedly up at her for a moment.

"What is your name?"

The Authoress, who was eyeing a spot across the room where she thought she had seen something sliver flash by, turned her attention back to the inert Phantom. "What?"

"You are the Authoress, I heard the announcer say that in the bonus chapter, but I do not know your name."

"Oh," She quirked an eyebrow in amusement. As he had talked, Gerry had snuggled down in the covers so all she saw was a tuft of hair sticking out of the velvets. "I have a few names…Crimson Hint, Crim, Ms. Hint, …basically all the same thing."

The pile of blankets shivered as Gerry burrowed deeper down.

"G'night Crim." Came his muffled answer.

The Authoress laughed and headed over to a comfortable-looking chair she had spotted earlier.

"Good night, Gerry."

WINNER: Am I sniffing out an alliance…or even…dare I say…_a friendship?_

LOSER: Where did all of the silverware go!

**THE CAMEO CHAPTER WILL BE UP SOON!**

**I THINK THAT GERRY WAS ONLY UP FOR AROUND A HALF AN HOUR!HE SURE CAN SLEEP!**


	18. Round Four: A Higher Power

Sorry that I have not updated lately. May and June are always two of the busiest months for me! Thank you for the reviews from last chapter!

I would like to dedicate this chapter to WanderingTeen. She has recently ended her fic A Random Tale of Me and the Angel of Music. It was one of my favorite stories on She has also been one of my most faithful reviewers since the beginning of What Would Erik Do? Thank you WT!

**THE CAMEO STARTS NEXT CHAPTER!**

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Round Four: A Higher Power**

The Authoress was curled up in one of the lair's few comfortable-looking armchairs completely engrossed in a novel she had found in one of the various crates. She was so intent on the book in her hand that she did not even notice when Gerry awoke some while later.

He muzzily wriggled his way out of his cocoon of blankets and rolled onto the floor where he was promptly pounced upon by the silverware. Too sleepy to resist and really not caring about what they were up to, he dazed off again as he was dragged across the floor and then through a side passageway and roughly shoved into a kitchen.

Still semi-unconscious, he tumbled across the floor and smacked his head into a table leg. Startled awake by an explosion of pain in his cranium, he bolted up.

Unfortunately he had rolled _under_ the table and his forehead cracked sickeningly into the tabletop above him.

He yelped in agony and swooned backwards, landing heavily on the floor.

Crim was jolted from her book by the Phantom's pitiful moans. She swiveled her head around to the mound of blankets where she had last seen Gerry, but he was not there. She got up and shut her book with a snap. Tossing it aside, she called out,

"Gerry? Gerry? Are you okay?"

There was an answering string of curses and then nothing.

The Authoress plowed through piles of crates and boxes in the direction that she thought his voice was coming from.

"GERRY! Where are you!"

By the time the Authoress had gotten across the room the Opera Ghost's pain had dulled somewhat and he managed to growl out "kitchen…" and then "…on right…"

She skidded to a stop, almost missing the doorway.

"Oh my God! What happened?"

He cracked open one eye and watched as the Authoress bounded up to the table and then proceeded to crawl underneath.

"The dammed cutlery is what happened. I do not know what they were thinking! I am going to hunt them down and use them for…argh!"

He shuddered and clutched at his head. Crim, frantic with worry and by then completely out of her senses, tried to hold onto his noggin too.

"Why is this happening to me again? Oh God, first Erik and now you! Please, please, _please_ do not be bleeding!"

The Phantom, at this point, was thinking only of one thing, which he whined out as he batted her hands away – "water…rag…cool…head…NOW!"

After a second she realized what he had said and immediately wriggled out from under the table, no questions asked. She looked around and spotted a hand towel to the left of the small porcelain sink that was in the room. Soaking it thoroughly under the tap, she dove under the table again and plonked it down with a loud _plop_ on top of Gerry's face.

He spluttered in surprise and then carefully positioned the cloth better. Sighing in thankfulness from the minimal amount of relief it gave him, he turned his attention to the Authoress, who was now looking slightly calmer.

"How does your head feel now?" She tentatively reached out and poked the soggy bundle.

"Better, thank you." He huffed and tried to cross his arms. This was not such a good idea, seeing as his head felt like it was going to split from just that tiny movement. He whimpered and Crim winced saying,

"I wish I had some ice, that would be so much of a…"

Suddenly, a huge mass of shaped ice cubes appeared in midair and crashed down upon the unsuspecting Phantom.

"…_help."_ Crim finished lamely. "Er…what just happened?"

She stared at Gerry, who did not move.

"Gerry?"

She prodded him and upon receiving no response she quickly brushed some of the ice cubes that were piled on top of his head to the side.

He was out cold.

"Oh God!"

As her brain registered the impossibility of what had just happened, she panicked and jumped up, banging her head painfully on the tabletop above her in the process. Slumping back down, she groaned and carefully maneuvered herself out from under the annoying piece of furniture.

Then, exasperated and fed up, she roughly shoved the table as far as she could across the kitchen and away from Gerry.

As she looked down at the Phantom to see if he had awakened, a golf-ball sized hunk of frizzy pink light whizzed by her nose and landed gracefully on top of his chest. It wobbled around in place for a second and then with a little popping sound sprouted miniature pink arms and legs.

It tottered up Gerry's chest, climbed over his chin, hopped up onto his nose, and faced the Authoress. Without giving Crim any time to process its sudden appearance or antics, it opened up its mouth – basically it just split in half like a Pac-Man – and shouted in her own voice,

"What're you just standing there for you idiot! Get this ice off of him quick!"

The Authoress just stared at it openmouthed. Giving a little huff, it stared trying to pick up the ice cube nearest it with its tiny hands and toss it to the side. While it was doing this it pointedly chanted, "Hup, hup, hup, hup!"

After about five seconds of the pink thing struggling with its one ice cube, Crim shook herself out of her daze and began shoveling the ice cubes off of the Opera Ghost's body. Finally, when all of it was '_safely away from Mr. Gerry_' as the annoying ball had declared, it demanded that she pack some of the ice scattered on the floor into a 'nice _manageable_ ice pack'. She did so and then, with a defeated sigh plopped back down onto the floor.

The mysterious little taskmaster eyed her and then toddled off of Gerry's face. It landed on the floor in front of her and spoke,

"You are so _dense_! How could you just zone out like that when _The Phantom of the Opera _was in jeopardy!" It grumbled something like '_irresponsible little twit' _and hopped up onto her knee.

"I didn't reinstate your powers as Authoress for nothing! I swear to God when you get back I am putting you through character development boot camp!"

Crim heard only one thing from its enthusiastic rant,

"Reinstated my powers as Authoress! How…who…?"

It crossed its arms and said smugly, "_A higher power."_

"A…"

"Yes, but you can call me Fred."

"Hey! You sound like me – not a boy!"

"Ahem…yes, well…my assigned name is…er…Fredericka." It scuffed its shoe against her kneecap in embarrassment. "Not my fault, though. It's that evil she-witch that…" it paused and then, "ahem…too much information, there."

Fred hopped back down to the floor.

"So…yes you have your 'magical powers' back and can now operate without your notebook. You also have to summon your army. Which reminds me, I brought the supplies and list with me. They're over by that blanket pile Mr. Gerry calls a bed."

Crim snorted in disbelief. "You mean to say that I have an army…_and_…my powers – completely free of the notebook's influence?" she glared at the ball of light that had hastily retreated back to the Phantom and was curiously poking itself halfway into his open mouth "What's the catch?"

It froze, teetered backwards out of Gerry's mouth, rolled down his chin, and rocketed off his jaw, landing on the floor by his hand with a thump.

"Ah…well I can't specifically _say_…"

"WHAT!"

"Hey! I have orders!"

"From whom?" Crim screeched and pounced on Fred.

It struggled to free itself from her grasp, all the while choking out a defense.

"I can't… say! If I tell you… then by a sub-sub-sub plot… line woven into the story I would…burst into flame and explode into _smithereens!"_ Fred chomped down on the nearest finger and the Authoress flung it across the room with a growl.

"If I have some kind of weakness that could potentially get me _killed_ in this story I think that I have the RIGHT to know about it!"

The pink ball of light picked itself up and brushed itself off before looking exasperatedly at Crim,

"Geez…if I would have known you'd be this violent I would have at least used a different form! Ahem…" It cautiously approached her again. "I can't tell you specifics, but I can at least say that it's not exactly what you would call a…weakness…just an _annoyance."_

"_Grrrrr…"_

Fred eyed the livid Authoress before it, afraid for its life.

"You know, I think I should be going now. Um…bye!"

It shot off through the door and Crim followed it with a shriek,

"NOT SO FAST YOU LITTLE…!"

Before she could finish it disappeared in a flash of light leaving a smoldering little streak on the floor.

"Fine…" the Authoress huffed as she turned and stalked across the room towards where she could see a huge pile of cardboard boxes, "just go right ahead and disappear…you are going to be sorry when I get out of this fic."

"I don't really think so," Fred said haughtily from atop Crim's head.

"Gah!" She smacked her hair, hoping to inflict some damage, but it had floated upwards and out of reach.

"Sorry," the annoying ball of light said smugly, as it watched Crim grimace and rub her head, "but I forgot to tell you that Gerry should be fine. Let him wake up when he wants to. _But…"_ It waved its tiny arms in agitation. "Summon your army _now_."

It tilted itself to the side as if listening to something and then said worriedly, "You're gonna need them soon!"

Crim glared daggers at Fred, who glared right back and said,

"_Now."_

The Authoress, hopping mad, was trying to figure out exactly how she could possibly catch Fred, so she did not hear its last statement. Squeaking in frustration, the pink ball dived bombed her head with a shout.

"Army…NOW!"

She slapped Fred away at the last moment. It went tumbling to the ground, disappearing silently this time in the blink of an eye.

"FINE!" she huffed to the silent lair.

She stormed over to the boxes, twirled around and faced the expanse of the room, and shouted commandingly,

"MY ARMY TO ME!"

WINNER: The Authoress

LOSER: Gerry – WHY IS HE UNCOUNSCIOUS FOR SO MUCH OF THIS FIC!


	19. Round Five: The Army Assembles

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers!

THIS CHAPTER WAS A LONG TIME IN COMMING, BUT IT IS FINALLY HERE!

**I'm sorry that this chapter is so long and drawn out, but I wanted to give all my reviewers their due. EVERYONE gets an individual appearance in 'The Army Assembles'. There will be a few more cameo chapters. Anyone still interested in applying, please do. I will give you an appearance later in the cameo**.

ALSO, WHAT WOULD ERIK DO? HAS PASSED A HUNDERED REVIEWS! I AM SO PROUD! THANK YOU EVERYONE, I COULD NOT HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU!

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

**Round Five: The Army Assembles**

Gerry awoke to the sound of nervous giggles and a few excited squeals. Groggily, he inched open his eyes.

The sight before him made him seriously rethink whether or not he was still asleep.

At least half a dozen girls stood over him, whispering to each other in hushed tones. Reverently they gazed upon his sprawled out form and sighed over his manly physique.

Gerry, trying his hardest to stay perfectly still, could not stop the growing feeling of overwhelming dread that coursed through him. Slowly, as the group of girls closed in, his breathing became ragged and he began to tremble from head to toe.

The Phangirls had picked up on the change in his behavior and started cooing over his impossibly cute panic attack.

Just as they reached the point where they would have to stop or all dog pile their favorite Phantomy character, Gerry hit his limit of tolerance on the invasion of his personal space and shot up with a terrified curse. He bowled over or shoved his way through the Phangirls gathered around him and dashed out into the main room.

What he saw out there made him skid to a stop and head the other way.

A huge portal had been opened in the wall nearest the pile of blankets that was his bed and an excited mass of Phangirls was streaming through and out into the lair.

Just as he was about to scamper off he was stopped abruptly by a cheerful shout from the Authoress,

"Gerry! Good – you are finally awake! Come over here and help me, please!"

Hunching himself up to make himself less visible, he tried to scoot under the protection of some crates. He got about two steps towards the nearest one when he suddenly lost all control over his body and was magically dragged over to where Crim was standing by the portal.

She crossed her arms in irritation and strolled over to him.

"You know, I did ask nicely." At Gerry's frown she held up her hands. "It is not my fault that I was given my powers back while you were asleep."

With a snap of her fingers Gerry was released. Unprepared, he tumbled to the ground. Within seconds a Phan with blond, curly hair and a massive gun strapped to her back appeared at the Phantom's side and tried to help him up.

Gerry, confused and irritated, did his best to shove her off but she clung to him as if her life depended on it.

"Who in the hell is _this?"_ He pointed his free hand at the Phan and glared daggers at the Authoress.

Without hesitation, the mystery Phan squealed out,

"Why I'm your wife, silly!"

Gerry's eyes bugged out as he gasped,

"_W…w…w…wife…?_"

The Authoress, snickering, said,

"Well, a lot DID happen while you were out cold."

Gerry growled in desperation and flung himself as close to the Authoress as possible before he was yanked back by his 'wife'.

"Er…Gerry, may I introduce you to Mrs. Gerard Butler. A Phan of yours."

Suddenly, there was an abrupt stop to the flow of Phangirls and the portal started to close.

"Um, Gerry," She nervously looked over to where he was getting glomped, "I have got to go and attempt to get the Phangirls in order. Try not to do anything…scandalous…with Mrs. Gerard Butler, here."

With that she dashed off. Gerry pitifully whined after her,

"Crim, you were just _kidding _about her being my wife, right? RIGHT?"

The Authoress, sadly, did not hear him and continued over to the nearby pile of boxes that Fred had dropped off.

Magically slicing open the one marked "OPEN FIRST!" in big red letters, she found a megaphone and a list of everyone in the army.

Putting the megaphone to her mouth, she thundered in the general direction of the mass of Phangirls,

"ALRIGHT! EVERYONE LISTEN UP! WHEN I CALL YOUR NAME PLEASE STEP FORWARD TO RECEIVE YOUR UNIFORM. FROM WHAT I CAN SEE THEY ARE DIFFERENT COLOR CLOAKS AND PINS."

She rummaged through the box for a second and then held up a black cloak with crimson swirls on it and a drawstring bag that supposedly contained pins.

At her announcement the Phangirls stampeded over and eagerly crowded around where she was standing.

"LET ME SEE, THIS CLOAK BELONGS TO…_ER_…ME. AND I HAVE A SILVER ROSE PIN WITH THE PETALS LAQUERED RED. SAME FOR GERRY."

She rummaged around in the box again and found the Phantom's cloak and tossed it, along with the pin, in the general direction of the agonized whimpers coming from. She then scanned the list, frowned in concentration and shouted,

"IT SAYS HERE THAT THERE WILL BE SIX COLORS OF CLOAKS AND EACH DEFINES A CERTAIN UNIT WITHIN THE ARMY. BLACK CLOAKS ARE SPIES, GREEN CLOAKS ARE RAIDERS, SILVER CLOAKS ARE BASE CAMP WORKERS, BLUE CLOAKS ARE TUNNEL MAPPERS, RED CLOAKS ARE MILIRARY PERSONELL, AND YELLOW CLOAKS ARE MESSENGERS."

There were excited squeals and giggles at the mention of the different jobs.

"THE CLOAKS COME WITH PINS ALSO – BLACK HAS A SILVER SKULL WITH RUBY EYES, GREEN HAS A SILVER CRESENT MOON, SILVER HAS AN ONYX STAR, BLUE HAS A CRYSTAL TEARDROP, RED HAS A GOLD SWORD WITH A DIAMOND HILT, AND YELLOW HAS A GOLD FEATHER."

There were a few more titters from the group as the Authoress reached into a newly opened box and pulled out a black cloak.

"ALRIGHT…FIRST WE HAVE DARTH PHANTOM 1870."

A violet eyed girl wearing a black Jedi outfit with a pistol tucked in her belt, and wielding twin lightsabers stepped up and received her cloak.

"NEXT IS HAYLEY MACRAE ()"

A girl with a gray hoodie with a fairy on it and black pants came out of the crowd. She was trailed by a Phantom with sporks hopping up and down on his shoulder.

"AND OUR LAST SPY IS CLOE RIDES A LAND SHARK.'

A land shark burst out of the crowd, scaring a few Phans, and landed a few feet from Crim. A girl wearing an I heart Darth Vader T-shirt, jeans, and red sneakers stalked up, glared at the land shark, and received her cloak. She retreated back into the crowd and was followed shortly after by her land shark.

The Authoress opened the next box of cloaks and found that they were green.

"ER…NEXT WE HAVE SONGSTRESSGIRL 07."

A girl with bright green eyes and a longbow and quiver strapped to her back stepped out of the crowd and got her cloak and pin.

"SKIBBEREEN."

A girl with reddish-brown hair wielding twin knives came forward and received her cloak.

"ERIK FOR PRESIDENT."

There were a few envious mutters as she stepped out of the crowd in full Phantom dress complete with a navy blue vest and cravat. Pushing her Harry Potter glasses further up on her nose, she accepted her cloak with a graceful little bow and disappeared back into the crowd.

Done with that box, the Authoress dragged out another from the pile and opened it. This one contained silver cloaks.

"WANDERINGTEEN."

A brown haired girl wearing big black boots, black pants, and a loose, frilly white shirt stepped forward. There were a few shouts of anger from the gathered Phans as they tried to dodge her wildly swinging skull blade and holstered axe and shield.

Crim winced as WT nearly took out someone's Erik and tossed her the cloak.

"NEXT IS MYST-URU."

From a few ranks back a squeal could be heard and then the _woosh!_ of a lightsaber turning on. A path was hastily cleared and a girl wearing a black tank top, black shorts, and a black mask came bounding through. The Authoress handed her her cloak and she happily returned back into the crowd.

Crim checked the box to make sure that all the silver cloaks were gone and then opened the next box that contained blue cloaks.

"PONY 210."

A brown haired, sweat suit wearing girl walked out of the crowd, followed on either side by two large dogs, both happily panting and prancing.

Crim zeroed in on the dogs and cooed, "They are so adorable! What are their names?'

Pony 210 smiled and said, "Milly and Jersy". Crim handed her her cloak and pin and gave the dogs a quick pat.

"NEXT IS MRS. GERARD BUTLER."

There was a squeal from the back of the crowd and then a shout from Gerry,

"Dear God! Help…somebody…ANYBODY!"

Crim winced and looked down at the list.

"Er…I believe she is preoccupied at the moment, so…"

Putting the megaphone to her mouth once again, she screeched over the crowd's rising chatter,

"PHANTOMETTE OF THE OPERA."

A long hared brunette sauntered out of the crowd, looking for all intents and purposes as if she had just stepped out of some kind of fashion magazine. Jean-clad, sparkling, and be heeled, she came up and accepted her gear as the Authoress stared at her openmouthed.

"Uh…are you sure that you are dressed appropriately for the occasion?"

Her brows furrowed and she said,

"What do you think - these boots are only for show?"

She scraped her heel across the stone floor, causing sparks to fly. Smiling she hefted her jewel-encrusted saber over her shoulder and strode back into the crowd.

Crim paused for a moment, looked down at her own shoes thoughtfully, and then opened the second to last box which contained red cloaks.

"ERIK THE DEVIL'S CHILD."

A tall figure dressed all in black appeared behind the Authoress and poked her in the shoulder.

"It's Stai."

Swiveling around in surprise, Crim shuffled through the list and then grimaced apologetically,

"Sorry."

Stai raised an eyebrow and threw her longbow, which she had been holding in her gloved (fingerless, of course) hands, over her shoulder. Taking her gear, she disappeared around the stack of empty boxes lying in a pile on top of the bed.

"ARIGHT, NEXT IS…"

Suddenly a demonically possessed paper shredder charged through the crowd and flung itself onto the nearest box. A girl dressed in a similar outfit as Meg in the last scene of the movie shoved herself past a few petrified Phans and dove on top of it.

Grabbing its wildly flying leash she dragged it away from its meal, whacked it a couple of times with her handy staff and broadsword, and dangled the edge of her cape in front of it.

It fell for the bait and tossed itself on the fabric. While it was munching the girl turned to Crim and laughed,

"Miss Black Shadow, at your service!"

The Authoress tossed a cape at her, looking wildly around the room.

"Er, exactly where is the rest of your arsenal?"

The Phan hugged her new cape to her and waved off to the back of the cave with a black-gloved hand.

"Somewhere in that general direction, I suppose."

After her reply the paper shredder suddenly lost interest in her cape and spotted something shiny in the back of the crowd. Hurtling himself towards it, he dragged Miss Black Shadow back into the crowd.

"ALRIGHT! WILL OH SHUT UP SAVY PLASE STEP FORWARD?"

After a few seconds went by a hand was raised above the heads of the crowd and someone shouted in a strange combination of an Irish and Scottish accent,

"Ach! Here I am!"

The Phans parted to reveal a girl with a magically glittering Irish sword tossed casually over her shoulder. Flinging her long chestnut ponytail over her free shoulder, she yelled,

"Just toss it over here!"

Crim obliged and with a thank you the crowd closed in around the Phan once again.

"KIWI OF THE OPERA!"

Silently a girl came forward and accepted her cloak then went back into the crowd.

"AND FINALLY, EMERALD PINGS!"

A curly brown haired bow woman walked out, twirling an arrow between her fingers. Looking at the Authoress through her glasses she held out an expectant hand and huffed,

"And I'm last, why, exactly?"

Glaring at the girl in front of her, Crim shook the list in front of her and pointed to the ceiling,

"_A higher power." _Emerald pings crossed her arms and looked upwards, saying jokingly,

"Well, that's kind of hard to argue against."

Chucking, the Authoress thrust the cloak and pin at her.

Scanning the list one more to make sure that all of the names were called, Crim shouted,

"ALRIGHT, THAT IS EVERYONE, SO…"

She was interrupted by Gerry, who tore through the crowd at breakneck speed, desperately clutching the last remnants of what looked like his shirt to his body. He was followed shortly by Mrs. Gerard Butler who stopped abruptly in front of Crim and panted,

"I'm here for my uniform, now!"

Starting as the door to the tunnels was opened and then quickly slammed shut, the Authoress raised an eyebrow,

"What exactly did you do to him over there?" She turned and eyed the disheveled Phan. "Did you at least keep his decency intact?"

She smirked and chuckled,

"Fear not! He's a slippery little bugger, that one. No harm done, unfortunately."

The Phan sighed in regret and accepted the cloak and pin that the Authoress handed to her.

Crim turned attention back to the crowd, which had somehow managed to drift over to the door that led outside. From the looks of it, a few Phangirls were trying to arrange a search and rescue party for the escaped Phantom.

The Authoress huffed and rolled her eyes. Bringing the megaphone back to her lips, she shouted,

"HEY! I STILL HAVE TO TELL YOU WHAT KIND OF POWERS YOU EACH GET!"

WINNER: Mrs. Gerard Butler

LOSER: Gerry – heh, heh, heh…a hunting we will go, a hunting we will go - poor guy, he never gets a break!


End file.
